Origins
by CMayleenJ
Summary: Trouble has finally caught up to Madison and her friends must find out the truth, starting where she left off to find out the secrets her father buried and what could have possibly almost killed her. Time is a vulnerable things especially when Tabitha, Stiles, Derek, Scott, and the others have no clue what Madison was caught up in. Will they be able to save her? Derek/OC/Scott
1. Author's Intro

Okay ladies and gentlemen, first I'd like to say I'm so, so, _so_ sorry about the wait. I've been so busy with homework and my AP classes and work and _blah! _But I finally started on my new chapter for the sequel! Eek! I'm so excited! I have so many plans for our little pups (Ha!) but first, before I unveil anything, I wanted your insight as fans on what questions you NEED or desperately want to be answered this time, please, PLEASE, feel free –actually, I really, really want them –so please post on the comment section on what YOU:

-Want accomplished in the sequel

-What questions you want answered about Madison and her Past

AND –this is what I really want –what YOU think will happen. Give me your best guesses.

The new chapter should be posted tonight or tomorrow hopefully. ;)


	2. Beginnings and Endings

_Beginnings and Endings_

Tabitha sat solemnly in the chair, ducking her head low to avoid the suspicious glances of her peers. She shied away from them, covering her face with her hands to hide her eyes. She heard steps approach her but she refused to lift her head. The person knelt down in front of her and touched her hands, pulling them away and taking them into their own. She first saw his converse shoes and forced herself to look up, catching herself in the intense stare of his honey brown eyes. She didn't speak and glared at him, silently begging him to go away, but he was adamant to stay and clutched her hands tightly, also showing his support silently. She leaned forward before she could stop herself and rested her head against his shoulder and wept softly. He released her hands and wrapped his strong arms around her, soothing her back and hair.

"It'll be all right, Tabitha," he assured her, kissing her left temple before turning his head to eye his friends. "I got you."

They weren't as comforting, keeping their distance from the pair. For the past few hours they isolated her in the corner, suspicious of her, shooting her accusing glares every now and then. Stiles glared back at them, disappointed at their behavior. Tabitha didn't deserve to be shunned but yet she was because they believed she was withholding information –very important information –purposely. Stiles knew deep down she knew something but he knew she was never to blame. Shunning her wouldn't deliver answers, either. He rose, bringing Tabitha up with him. She stumbled onto her feet and clutched his waist to keep balance. He did the same and guided her away from the vultures observing them across the floor on the other side of the wall.

"Where are you two going?" Derek demanded, emerging from the group as their spokesperson. Stiles stood his ground and hid Tabitha's face in his shoulder. He glanced back, not bothering to turn around to face them, instead kept his back to them.

"Away from you assholes," he seethed, and returned his attention forward, pushing Tabitha in front of him, so that he would be the wall between them. Lydia's ivy green eyes widened, surprised at his animosity towards the whole of them. Sure, she expected him to be pissed at Derek, maybe Scott to –no, definitely Scott, she realized, despite the closeness of the two –but her? Why would he insult her? She didn't do anything! _Exactly, _her conscience told her. _You didn't help at all. You just enabled the rest of them. Don't forget you seconded the idea Tabitha caused all of this. No wonder Stiles is peeved. They all ganged up on his girlfriend. His loyalties were tied to her for a while now. _

"Stiles," Derek yelled. Stiles only walked faster. Derek began to go after them but Scott held him back. "What the hell Scott? Are you going to let them get away?"

"Don't push him," Scott warned him gravely. "We need him and if we push him to decide a side, I guarantee you he's going to support Tabitha. Give them space."

Derek seethed but stepped back, agreeing with Scott's reasoning. "She knows _everything _and she hasn't told us _anything. _Her best friend is in the hospital and what she could say could save her but she hasn't done anything!" Derek ranted, growling.

"Leave her alone," Allison insisted, standing to her feet. Scott reached out to her but she slapped away his hand, stunning him. As his hand dropped to his side, Allison caught a glance of the hurt in his dark eyes but she ignored it, angrier than anything. "She's just as traumatized as anything! She was _there_! She actually _saw_ whatever happened! We weren't. In fact, she had to make the calls. She was sobbing when she called me! She's racked with guilt, can't you see that? She would rather face blame because she blames herself to for whatever happened but that's not the answer. Whatever she can tell us doesn't change the fact Madison is out cold and unstable. We need to be supportive and make her feel loved and welcomed so she's more opened to telling us. We are providing anything but a safe environment for her."

Allison picked up her bag from her chair and started to walk away, glaring at all of them, specifically Scott.

"Where are you going?" The teenage boy asked weakly.

"Away from you, too," Allison snidely remarked, walking away. Jackson, Derek, Lydia, and Scott looked at each other with a variety of expressions. Derek was still seething, Lydia was confused but also ashamed, as not only her conscience but Allison verified her actions as wrong, Scott was torn and disappointed but was prideful, enough to keep his stance with his original group while Allison, Stiles, and Tabitha cooled off.

Allison met Stiles and Tabitha in the cafeteria splitting a Reece's peanut butter and chocolate treat. Tabitha nipped at hers, not in the mood to eat but Stiles urged her, too, reasoning she hadn't eaten in hours. She sat down with them, taking Tabitha's hand in her own.

"I'm so sorry, Tabi," Allison said, leaning her head on her shoulder. Stiles gave her a solemn smile, aware that Allison wasn't as guilty as the rest. "Do you need me to get you anything? Is there any kind of food you're craving?"

Tabitha shook her head. She threw up whatever food had been stored in her stomach a few hours ago and she still couldn't get the awful, bitter taste out of her mouth. She didn't think she had to energy to digest another round of calories and sugars knowing she'd be likely to regurgitate for a second round. Stiles' mouth pressed into a firm line.

"She likes hamburgers from McDonald's, everything except pickles." Tabitha shot him a dirty look although she was kind of impressed that he remembered. "With it, she usually likes Lemonade. Make it a large. She's been dehydrated for a while."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it to Allison but she pushed it back. "You need that for later. Don't worry I can pay on my own. I'll be back soon. Is there anything you want Stiles? I bet you're hungry." Stiles shook his head. "Seriously Stiles, I'm just as worried about you. What do you want?" Stiles sighed and gave in.

"Just make Tabitha's a meal and I'll have her fries. She hates the fries so I usually eat them anyways." Allison nodded approvingly of his request and set on her way, gathering her bag and jacket and leaving the table. Stiles' was just as grateful for her absence as he was for her presence a moment ago.

"You didn't have to do that," Tabitha insisted, finishing up the small desert snack. Stiles shot her a look. She sighed, "but thank you anyways I suppose…"

"I think your stomach is fine now," he insisted, moving to Allison's chair next to Tabitha and grabbing her hand, squeezing it tightly. She smiled a little and nodded along, gulping.

"It wasn't my fault," Tabitha began, surprising Stiles. He didn't think she was ready to talk but with just the two of them, she felt safe to. For the time she had begun to know him on a personal level, she knew he would listen to anything she would have to say and she was grateful for that. "I wasn't anywhere near her. I was downstairs in the kitchen when I felt my wrist ache," as if to demonstrate, she grabbed her wrist and squeezed it, "just like that, as if someone was pulling on it. I couldn't explain it at first and then I remembered that whatever Mads felt, I could, too. It just the bond we have." In the moment as she clutched her wrist, she remembered the first time that happened, outside the police station when Jackson –as the Kanima –had hit Madison's hand. "I was about to investigate when I heard…" she trembled as the awful memory ignited a new wave of hot water in her eyes, ready to burst down her cheeks. Stiles caught this and embraced her, trying his best to keep her stable. Her voice was choked but audible next to his hear as she continued to narrate her side of the story.

"I heard her scream," she continued. "It was awful." Her voice shifted toned in one sentence until her voice faded into the plaid fabric of his shirt. She shivered at the memory of Madison's shrill scream. It was piercing, like the sound of shattering glass. She clung to Stiles tighter. "I felt the most excruciating pain in my back, too, as if someone had just stabbed me or rolled me. Just as it happened, it...it vanished. Then I heard a loud thud and her screaming stopped. Everything went _dead_ silent. I was so scared. I ran around, looking for her, screaming her name," she was hysterical, just as she had been in that moment, rampaging through the labyrinth of the house. "And there she was, on the floor, underneath the loft. Her hair was sprawled out and there was…red stuff…blood," she paused, "around her scalp and I tried to stop it but I couldn't tell where it was coming from," she hurried, whispering, almost incoherently but Stiles could understand most of it. "And then I looked at her eyes and they were…bright blue, brighter than I ever seen, as if they were just struck by lightning. It scared me so much."

She pulled away from him and wiped her nose with her long sleeve, and wiped her cheeks with her palms. "Someone pushed her," she croaked, "but I don't know who but someone did. Madison not a clumsy person and even if it was two stories, she would've landed on her feet if she focused on it. She fell on her back and that doesn't happen to Madison. She was leaning against the rail and someone pushed her off. I felt all of it. The pressure, the fall, the wrists…Someone else was in that room but I don't know who. I can't remember his scent but…if…let's say you get a shirt or something of his, I could recognize it."

"Did Maddy say anything to you about feeling unsafe or scared or suspicious of anybody while she was gone?" Stiles interrogated. Tabitha shook her head.

"No, she didn't feel suspicious at all, not that I could tell. She was ecstatic there. " Tabitha sighed softly. "She knows everything but she's in a coma and when or if she'll wake up." Tabitha insisted adamantly. Stiles nodded along, believing it all.

"Does her family know?"

"I only had Frank and Trevor's number. Other than that, I don't think the others know. Madison didn't give me any hints or locations on where she was, so I don't even have a place to begin a search," her shoulders collapsed in defeat.

_November 1998_

"GET OUT OF MY WAY!" a male voice boomed, slipping under the wood door and alerting a young woman. Her head perked from the bed but her hands were protectively on the little girl wrapped under multiple layers of blankets.

"Maddy," she whispered, "looks like your daddy is here." She said tearfully, overcome with relief and happiness. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She slowly rose from her bedside chair and moved to the door, opening it widely and peered into the blinding white hallway. She looked in both directions until a massive figure looming two white cloaked doctors caught her attention. He was arguing with them fiercely, waving his hands erratically, pointing at them accusingly.

"Sir…your daughter is in critical condition…" one of them tried to coax him, walking beside him as he pushed passed them. "It's not safe…" but he was caught off by Sloane's booming voice, startling the nurses stationed at the nearby desk. They looked at each other, frightened.

"I don't care!" He announced, glaring at them both. They shivered under his icy stare. "I will see my daughter if it's the last thing I do! I dare you to attempt to stop me!" But they didn't, standing back and shaking in fear as Sloane Dubolazov stormed forward, rampaging down the hall like a frantic father.

"Sloane," Aubrey whispered. Even with her meek voice, he caught it the first time, snapping his head to her direction.

"Aubrey!" He shouted, rushing up to her and embracing her in an air tight hug, lifting her off her feet. She clung to him and cried into his broad shoulders. He kissed her temple and then the crown of her head, clutching the back of it and grabbing a fistful of her dark brown hair. "I'm here now. How is she?"

"You can see for yourself," Aubrey answered, stepping aside and letting Sloane in. He sat in the chair Aubrey once sat in and grabbed Madison's little hand, making it seem the size of a finger in his palm.

"Hi sweetheart," he cooed. He touched her forehead and frowned gravely. "How high is her fever?"

"The doctor said it was 105," she recalled sadly, sitting down in the opposite chair. She pushed some dark strands from Madison's face. The three year old on the bed was sound asleep, as if in a coma, peacefully still, with her chest rising and falling in a slow but even succession. "She's burning up fast and he said the longer the fever stays, the less the chances she has at surviving." Aubrey felt her voice break and she bowed her head on the sheets, clutching the warmth of Madison's other hands.

"She's a fighter," Sloane assured, more to convince himself though. Young Madison was more like him than anything else and he knew she was capable of overcoming this but was her mental strength parallel to her physical strength? That's what would really determine her survival. "She'll make it. She has to."

_Present _

Madison lay still on the bed like a doll, under a single quilt but her hands were crossed, holding each other. Her hair was strewn across her pillow, limp and lifeless. Her breathing was shallow, like a ghost. Her eye lids were closed. Her skin was paler, sickly, just as person in her condition would be, but it was still an awful sight for anyone who happened to view her.

Derek watched over her from the other side of the glass, as no one but family had been allowed in. Frank and Trevor had left to tend to papers regarding their healthcare and such, leaving Madison alone for once.

He felt bitter looking at her but longed to be closer. She looked so fragile and frail. Not like he had remembered her. She would've been lively, temperamental, witty, sarcastic, and…always perfect, not a hair out of place.

"You're day dreaming," Lydia snidely remarked, joining Derek's side. He glared at her. "Don't think just because no one noticed, you're secret obsession would be protected." He knew Lydia was observant but he cursed at her silently in his head, embarrassed. Lydia had caught his expressions whenever her name was mention, the way his dark brows would furrow, how his light green eyes would glisten… "You love her, don't you?"

"As if," he protested loudly. She hummed, unmoved. "I just…it's unusual for me to see her this way. She one of the strongest people I know and to see her this way…"

"It's heartbreaking," Lydia finished for him in a monotone voice, again unmoved. Derek glared at her.

"Can you go away?" He demanded.

She shook her head. "Nope," she declined, crossing her arms. She turned to the glass and grimaced. What Derek had said was true. It was an ugly sight. Lydia suppressed a cringe. She only remembered Madison as a regal and defined young woman, with a proud and often condescending stance, hovering over Lydia by a couple of inches –without the assistance of heels. She was naturally a dominating presence and intimidating person. What Lydia hated more about her was the fact she was stunning…not so much anymore, as her skin was almost white, with vibrant blue veins sticking out of her wrists and arms. Her face was sunken in and thin, as she had lost a significant amount of weight –something that didn't seem right. What had happened in the past two months that would've caused such a dramatic drop of weight for Madison? Her light silver hair had faded and thinned, as well, and was sprawled limply over the pillow.

"Do you think Tabitha really pushed her?" Lydia thought, recalling the brunette. She was a new face, having come across it only a number of times, but each time was memorable. Tabitha had expressed some kind of hostility to Lydia –and maybe it was because of Stiles and his crush on the strawberry blonde –but Lydia was more frightened of her temper. She was as funny as times as she could be furious, and in most cases, Lydia was her target. Lydia tried to ignore the snide comments, the glares, and the subtle threats, but it came to a point where Tabitha literally had pushed her out of door, expressing a violent side Lydia wasn't familiar with. Stiles tried to apologize for her, explaining she was more physical with her communication and underestimated her own strength but Lydia knew better. Tabitha knew damn well her own strength and would –and has- used it to her advantage.

She wouldn't be surprised if Madison was subjected to the same disrespect from the loud-mouthed redneck.

Derek on the other hand knew better than Lydia. He knew the bond between Beta and Alpha was stronger than any other he ever seen. She would be willing to give her life up to Madison, which made him doubt she would take part in hurting her.

"No," he answered honestly. "Tabitha wouldn't but she knows something. She has, too."

"Then why would she hide the truth?"

"She's scared," Derek suggested, "or maybe she protecting someone else. We can't tell for sure."

Lydia hummed skeptically in response, still firm in her idea Tabitha had gone past the boundary lines.

Scott slowly confronted Stiles and Tabitha, hands stuffed in his front pockets with his head low, nervous as he shook. Tabitha heard his frantic heartbeat and looked over her shoulder which a blood chilling glare he narrowly missed. Stiles wasn't as harsh with his greeting but his narrowed eyes second Tabitha's feelings and both their signals were acknowledge but overlooked by Scott as he sat down in Allison's seat during her absence.

"Hey," he began slowly, gulping.

"What do you want Scott?" Tabitha coldly greeted him, baring her canines. Scott leaned back, distancing himself from her hostility. He stuttered at first but found a voice after moment.

"I want to apologize for earlier," he mumbled. "We shouldn't have ganged up on you. I'm sorry, Tabi."

She harrumphed loudly, turning her head to hide the fury in her eyes. Stiles could see from across the table she was having troubles controlling her temper.

"What prompted this?" Stiles asked seriously, eyeing Scott. Scott shrugged.

"I just felt bad," he answered honestly.

"No, you don't," Tabitha accused, extending her claws and glaring at him with her primal yellow eyes. Scott kept his human face intact and stared at her intently with his dark brown ones. "You just realized intimidation isn't going to get you answers, so you're taking a taking a different approach, faking sincerity," she turned her cheek and refused took at him, silently expressing her disgusts, as she didn't want to waste another breath on the asshole.

"Scott," Stiles warned. "I think you and I need to talk _alone_."

Scott nodded nervously and rose, waiting for Stiles. After Stiles assured Tabitha and kissed her forehead, he led Scott outside the hospital, visible from the front sliding doors under the bright, beaming lights from the banister.

He shivered in the cold, as his body was scarcely protected by the thin fabric of his plaid button-up and solid back t-shirt underneath. Scott on the other hand was warm in a sweatshirt and a thick mop of black, curly hair which covered his scalp unlike Stiles' thin strands.

"You need to give Tabi her space," Stiles hissed. "You don't realize how dangerous she is, Scott. You think just because you've spend months together, she'll overlook this and understand from your point of view, but that's not the case. She feels betrayed. She doesn't care if you consider her a 'friend.' When she's threatened like she was earlier when you dicks ganged up and her and started pointing fingers she's going to get mad, especially since she took it personally. I would watch your back for one thing," Stiles continued.

"Is that a threat?" Scott asked incredulously, "from you?"

Stiles shook his head. "As much as I feel obligated to defend my girlfriend, she can take care of herself, and the threat isn't from me, it's from her. I've been around her enough to predict her actions with 90% accuracy."

"So what is she going to do," Scott challenged, sarcastically, "push me off a bannister like she did with Madison?"

Stiles' face deepened with a dark red Scott had never seen before. He took a step back. "First of all Scott, she didn't push Madison!" Stiles exploded, shouting loudly. "I'm surprised you would think she's capable of doing that to her best friend! She doesn't know what happened but she knows someone pushed her off the second story but she doesn't know who. I wouldn't either. I would much rather tend to Madison like she did than hurry off to find whoever did it, wouldn't you think?" Stiles accused, grimacing. "Second, you've seen what's she's capable of. You saw her take down Derek. Unfortunately I didn't but I put enough trust in her abilities to know she can kill you and as much as I'm pissed off right now, I don't want that to happen to you Scott. Both of you are blinded by emotions and I'm not sure she can control herself. If you haven't guessed already, she's impulsive, and if she wants to hit you or –I don't know –snap your neck? She will. Right now both of you need to keep your distance from each other until both of you cooled down to talk civilly."

Scott seethed. "She told you this? How can you trust her?"

"Because," Stiles yelled, "she's my girlfriend. I'm supposed to trust her! I'm supposed to support her!"

"And I'm your best friend!" retorted Scott. "Aren't you supposed to back me up, too?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Huh," he sarcastically replied, tilting his head. "You are such a hypocrite. Remembering all those times _you_ blew _me_ off _for Allison_?" Scott glared at Stiles.

"You're really going to pull that card?" Scott asked incredulously but his dark voice was laced with resentment.

"Yes, I am! Because you expect me to side with you for everything when you never meet me halfway, like I'm your second priority! I'm so sick of that!"

"And because Tabitha strokes your ego every night, you put her above me?" Scott challenged. "You're willing to put a girl above your best friend!"

"You did first! And Tabitha 'stroking' me has nothing to do with it! My sex life is none of your damn business. Second, she listens to me, when I call her, she's willing to talk or meet me somewhere. She doesn't blow me off for another person –cough, cough Allison –who by the way, isn't your girlfriend anymore but you still pine for her and willing to do every deed for her as if you were still together!" Stiles accused. Scott lunged and pushed Stiles violently. Stiles stumbled backwards, catching balance after his fourth step. His expression was white-stricken, stunned by his friend's violent attack. Scott retreated back, matching his expression.

"Dude, I'm so sorry," he began. He was cut off by Stiles' fist. Scott's head turned from the impact. His flesh stung in protest at the assault. He rubbed his cheek, also in disbelief. His expression dropped and anger replaced it. His dark eyes were livid, matching Stiles' honey ones.

"We're even," Stiles announced coldly.

"I can't believe you punched me," Scott cried out angrily.

"I can't believe you pushed me," Stiles retorted, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You could've seriously hurt me. You don't know your strength, Scott. I'm just a human. You, Derek, Tabi, Maddy, you guys are all werewolves, with supernatural strength, enough to kill a man. You need to put a top on your emotions or one of these days, it's either me, Lydia, or Allison are going to get hurt and once that line's crossed, there is no going back."

"You do realize you're putting double standards," Scott accused back. "You tell me to bottle up my emotions but tell me to stay away from Tabi so I won't 'provoke' her to do something? You're letting her get easy! Why are you lenient with her but not with me? You're a hypocrite, too! You turned into such a pansy when she started to show up at your games, waving those signs, and jumping into your arms after you win a game, kissing you whenever she can! You're willing to do anything to get laid, including putting her above me!"

"You did the same to me, dick," Stiles seethed. "You would abandon me just to bow down at Allison's feet. For heaven's sakes, she was your username and password. You worshipped her! I can at least say I am not that stalker-ish of my girlfriend." Scott's face deepened in color, gritting his teeth. "So what if I like the idea of impressing someone? So what I want to feel appreciated for once in my life, thank you very much. I was always second best to you! I never got spotlight in my life. I was always that weird kid all throughout school," Stiles ranted. "So yeah, I'm going to appreciate her to accepting me. I don't know what she sees in me but whatever it is I'm going to respect her the same way she respects me. That's how relationships go. And the reason I have 'double-standards' for Tabi as you put it, is because I know her enough that she doesn't have the control as you do. She's easily triggered and I care for both of you that I don't want either of you to be put in a situation where one of you is going to get seriously hurt."

"I can't believe you're doing this," Scott accused, breathing intensely. Stiles turned his back to him, heading to the door. "You're really putting Tabitha above me after all we've been through. I'm your best friend," Scott reminded him.

"And you've really acted like one in the past year," Stiles sarcastically retorted, walking past the doors back inside. Scott gaped at him, unable to do something as Stiles walked away. He couldn't comprehend what had just happened or what consequences could follow. Did he just lose his best friend or was he just going to blow off steam? He always did before… Stiles always came through.

"What happened to your hand?" Tabitha inquired, taking Stiles' hand and examining it. It was swollen and blue and she winced just looking at it. "Did you and Scott get into a fight?"

Stiles shrugged and sat down on the chair next to Tabitha. She took his hand tenderly, careful not to rub against it. He appreciated her gentleness. She gave it back to Stiles and urged him out of the chair, holding his other hand as she led him down the hall to a familiar closet.

"Did you punch him?" She asked curiously.

"After he pushed me," Stiles affirmed. Tabitha gaped, astounded, before her face contorted to one of agitation. "It will be okay Tabs. Don't do anything about it. Scott is sorry. We need to all leave it alone. The more we press, the more it'll get worse. After this, I think we should just go home. The doctors said it'll be a miracle if Maddy wakes up tonight and you need your rest. You've got bags under your eyes. Please, just spare yourself at least a couple of hours and we can come back into the morning." He pleaded to her as she retrieved some sort of wrap fabric from the closet and started to wrap around his first. He winced at the pressure but held back any discomfort. She added an extra layer of padding to secure it and then dropped his wounded hand only to embrace him in a tight hug.

"Sure," she mumbled into his chest. He kissed the crowned of her head and guided her to the back exit, leading her to his Jeep.

Derek watched them leave alongside Scott who still steamed heatedly at the recent argument between him and Stiles. He grew jealous of Tabitha and glared at her with resentment. _How dare Stiles takes her side over his!_ He seethed.

"Settle down, Scott," Derek warned him coolly.

Inside her room, Madison slept silently, breathing evenly. Her eyes fluttered, a common occurrence with coma patients, as her mental state was still active.

"The doctor said it is usual for her eyelids to flutter or hands to move," Trevor reminded Frank when his husband perked at her bedside. The moment of hope in his dark eyes died. His head fell back onto the bed near her hand. Her fingers didn't twitch. "At least she's dreaming. That's a good sign."

_"Maddy, baby, you got to come back to us," _someone pleaded. _"Maddy baby, you're all I have. Please, don't leave me. I know you're stronger than this." _It sounded odd for a man to cry but he did. Madison just couldn't recognize his voice. Images flashed in her head. One of her as a child with her mom reading her a story but she had a worried face. It was an expression that concerned her. Why was her mother sad? What was wrong? She felt stirred but her body didn't respond.

Her mother raised a warm hand to her forehead. Why did it feel colder than usual? She tried to move away from it but she was paralyzed in her dream.

_"You're a fighter, Mads," _the same voice announced with determination. _"You'll make it. You have to." _

She felt lighter and she opened her eyes but all she could see was white around her. It was almost blinding at first. She lifted her arms to cover her face but regained her eyesight in a second, but everything was still white. She spun around frantically, confused, until the white faded into black, only to fade to a softer grey, with tall black sticks emerging from the shadows, thickening, until they took upon the shape of trees like that in the woods. She looked up. The sky above her was clear with sparking white dots scattered over the midnight blue. A full moon shone above her, casting spotlight in an open area. She followed it.

Her footsteps made no noise, not even on the stiff leaves beneath her. She didn't feel a cold despite her scant attire of a simple black dress. There wasn't any wind around her actually. Everything was just dead still. It unnerved her.

She emerged in the spotlight and gasped at her appearance, noticing her hair wasn't the fair golden she had grown used to but a dark brown that almost appeared black under the intense contrasting light of the moon. She fingered the tips, staring at the color with amazement. She then turned her attention to her silver skinned hands, gasping at the severe paleness of them. She jumped back, overwhelmed with shock. Her breath shook unevenly.

Frank jumped backwards as he watched Madison's heart monitor. It was rapid, a contrastingly difference pace than her previous rate. He patted Trevor urgently. "Get the doctor," he demanded, unable to get tear his eyes from the monitor. "Get him, now! Something is happening! Trevor!"

Madison looked forward, surprised by the sudden formation of figures rising like smoke from the ground. She stepped back, falling backwards but was caught in the strong arms of someone. She scrambled out of them, frantic, and turned around to face whoever had grabbed her. She felt her heart beat against her chest painfully as she stared at the cloaked stranger.

"Who are you?" She demanded, stuttering. Her bare feet stepped over a sharp rock and she cried out in pain.

Trevor watched the doctor impatiently as he poked Madison's foot with a sharp needle sort of thing, wincing at the thought of it, but Madison's comatose body remained unresponsive except for her rapid heartbeat.

"Well she reacts to pain," the doctor stated, marking his clipboard, "that's a positive sign."

In her dream, Madison crawled on the ground to get away from the shrouded figure, crying out. "Get away! Stay away from me!" The cloaked figure approached her and knelt down, staring down at her with vivid red eyes. She screamed again. "No! Leave me alone! Stop it! Please!"

Its long black sleeve lifted from its side and started to pull off its hood. She turned her head and raised her own arm to cover her eyes from the sight of what possible monster it could be.

"I'm sorry we had to meet like this again," a voice came from it, catching her off guard. She knew that voice…it had to settle in for a second before she could convince herself she could trust him… "Maddy, look at me," he pleaded.

She lowered her arm and forced herself to look at it, scared that she might be deceived but willed herself to be brave and face it.

She first saw the silver blond hairs on his head, the paleness of his skin, and then the blueness of his eyes. She gaped at him for a second, unable to comprehend it all. His lips moved but she couldn't focus on his words when his face had her utterly paralyzed.

* * *

I know you guys must be thinking "What the Hell happened to Maddy? You can't just plop us in the middle and expect us to go with it!" Oh but I can, because a true mystery begins with the end -in this case the middle -as we track back through the eyes of both Maddy and her loyal friends to search for the people who conspired against her. :) There will be so many suspects, first and foremost, her mysterious family which we don't know much about -...for now ;) It'll be very interesting to introduce them and to why they were kept a secret for so long but it'll be explain soon enough. :)

As for who pushed her, hmm, we'll have to trust the sleuthing skills to our trusty friends Tabi, Stiles of course, Derek most likely, and Allison, to discover the truth although it might be a long, long journey. Hehe. I am so enjoying this.

I might start experimenting with this, as the first segment was a huge success but it was all in third person. Because this second segment will take a more personal tone, and adopts a _**whole new** level_ of mystery, I might purposely start doing different first person perspectives of each character in a different chapter so the reader will be just as clueless as our characters, but I don't know, at the same time I know you all liked having the front row seats in the first book, getting to know the truth before Maddy did, and not being as clueless.

-What do you think? Would you like it in third person? or start with first person views (it'd be different every chapter, let's say for example Tabitha in one chapter, seconded by Stiles the next, Scott third, etc.) There are two things I will have trouble with. 1) I feel like the characters already in Teen Wolf have a personality of themselves and I'm not sure if I will be able to capture that personality just right to do them justice and 2) I want everything captured and followed so all of you will know what is going on and you be as confused. That's impossible if the perspective is biased. Tabitha can't be a mind reader and read Derek's thoughts. He's like a brick, emotionless wall! It'll shorten the chapters and I don't...first perspective chapters bore me...just because I feel like I have to stick to one person. I'm not sure about you guys but I hate being sane! XD I like being schizophrenic. :P

So what's your personal thoughts? I could experiment with first person POV occasionally as a treat to you guys **but you have to write in the comments who you want to have narrate!** Popular vote wins. :)

LOVE YA GUYS! Hope you enjoyed it! I'd love questions (in PM or on comments) and reviews. :) It'd be a blessing from homework...which I'm suffocating in...cause AP sucks...big time...and I gotta quit procrastinating. -_- Hasta luego amigos!


	3. Deep Sea of Secrets

If there was one thing Tabitha knew about Maddy was that she was almost ghostly in her ways. She never left a trail, whether it'd be a paper trail, a money trail, or just footprints in general. It explained why she carried 90% all cash in her wallet –the equivalent of $748, enough to sustain a month on the road, or the fact she rarely ever wrote down her thoughts or discoveries on paper –she kept it all in her head, only to herself (must to the frustration of her friends.)

But, Tabitha thought with a grin, she also knew there was an advantage to Madison's mental capacity. Whatever she remembered, she kept to herself, but what she didn't was stored somewhere, and that somewhere could be the key to uncovering the roots of Madison's mystery. She had to be hopeful.

Tabitha had made a guess that whatever location Madison mysterious visited was hopefully stored in her car's GPS. Unlikely, seeing as if Maddy has stored some address in there, she had to be aware it would be traced, and must've deleted it but maybe…maybe she didn't have a chance yet? Maybe the fall stopped her from erasing it all? After Stiles had dropped her off, the idea occurred to her when she passed by Maddy's newly returned car. She hadn't seen the beaming white BMW in a while. She wondered…

In the early morning before Trevor and Frank awoke, Tabitha snuck out of her room quietly, in nothing but her sweatpants and tank, wincing when Clover's claws scraped against wood, but luckily the large dog didn't create enough ruckus to disturb the two men upstairs. She crept into the garage, bringing the Lab with her, closing the door behind her as she flicked on the light.

"Shh, be quiet girl," she snapped behind her, startling the lab. The dog whimpered but obeyed as Tabitha unlocked the car, prying open the driver's door. She slid into the cold leather and turned on the ignition, powering the dashboard. Instantly the GPS key popped up and she searched for the recent locations.

She found a few, surprising her.

_ST. PETER PORT, OLIVE BAY, CA 93402 _

She knew Olive Bay by heart because her uncle took her sailing there for a summer vacation –although it was a different marina –before he sold it to fund his trip back to Mexico. What business would Madison have three hours away in a reserved little waterside city? She puckered her lips in thought as she pulled her phone from her pocket and took a quick photo of the GPS screen.

She then started to dial a number on her screen, pressing it to her ear while Clover perked her ears outside the car, tilting her head in curiosity.

Stiles tumbled out of bed as the sound of his phone ringing. "Shh! Damn it!" he hissed at it, worried his father would wake up. "I'm going to kill whoever is calling me!" He snatched his phone from his desk and looked at the screen with a scowl. He answered immediately. "Hey baby, it's kind of a little too early for a booty call," he dryly remarked. "I was waiting for the call a couple of hours ago, I don't know, around twelve?"

"Oh ha-ha," she remarked, rolling her eyes. "You should've told me that last night when you were driving me home." She grinned as she remembered his weary glances and wandering hands. "You could've taken me straight to your bed." She could almost imagine his expression and she wasn't far from the mark as his eyes widened and his mouth fell ajar. His dirty mind drifted to his fantasies that had teased him before her call awoke him. "So, I was wondering if you would like to take a road trip today," she leaned back into the seat.

"Uh…" he stuttered, confused, "uh, to where?"

"To St. Peter's Port," she replied. "It's a docking area for boats. It was on Maddy's GPS and since she can't answer for herself why she was down there…" her voice faded as she examined the date on the screen, "-why she down there two months ago, right around the time this –whatever 'this' is, began. I'm going to have to investigate it myself."

"Uh, sure, I guess," Stiles agreed, rubbing his head. "My car or yours," he inquired, getting up and grabbing a pair of jeans off the floor. He slid them on while squeezing the phone between his ear and shoulder.

"Hers," she answered indefinitely.

"Wha..?" Realization quickly came down upon his face. "We're taking her BMW? Is that even okay?"

"Yeah," Tabitha confirmed. "It's fine. She let me drive it before," she lied though she believed in the circumstance, Madison would definitely allow it.

"Should we tell Derek or Scott or the others?" Stiles shot off.

"NO," Tabitha yelled firmly, startling him. "We're not getting them involved, not yet. Let them continue having a field day running around like chickens with their heads cut off." She chuckled. "Not like their doing anything productive…Stiles, I trust you. Do not jeopardize that. This is just us two. Promise me, Stiles!" She demanded.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," he stuttered, sliding on a shirt over his body. He held the phone over speaker. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as possible," she demanded, climbing out of the car. "I'll pick you up in a half an hour. Be ready. Dress covert. We don't want to come across the same people who pushed Maddy off the loft and leave with targets on our backs. We got to be inconspicuous."

"Uh, sure, yeah, I can do that," he complied, grabbing his leather jacket off the bed post. He searched around his room for his sunglasses. He cursed when they disappeared. "I'll see you then."

"Ciao," she bid before hanging up the phone. She shut the door behind her and went back inside the house, searching for the BMW keys, finding them a minute later on the counter next to Trevor's Acura keys.

Stiles was jittering with excitement as he waited outside his house on the porch, hands in his front jacket pockets as he awaited for the glamorous white car. He had always dreamed of driving fast machines like them, jealous of Derek's Camaro and Jackson's Porsche. Sure, he loved his Jeep, but it had its limitations. Tabitha's Escape was nice he supposed, too, much newer than his SUV, but also much more…feminine, to politely put it. He didn't feel like a man driving that thing.

_But_, he imagined, smirking. He could definitely feel like a man behind the wheel of the magical white beast of a BMW. He was so deep in his day dream he didn't hear the purr of the said machine pull up beside of the curb of his house until a loud horn startled him violently, almost knocking him off the steps. The driver's side door opened and Tabitha climbed out, dressed nicely in long sleeves and a white, unzipped puffed vest. Her head was wrapped warmly in a knitted cap while her hair fell freely in while waves over her shoulders.

"Casanova," she called out, slamming the door behind her on her way to greet him. He rushed to greet her, meeting her halfway. She dropped a fair of keys into his palm. He stared at them, amazed. "Drive it carefully," she warned him with serious eyes. He nodded furiously. As she walked briskly in front of him, he diverted his shameless gaze from her swaying hips –complimented nicely by her dark washed jeans –to her solid brown boots. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Weren't they Madison's pairs? Nah, they just seemed similar, he reasoned.

She noticed his gaze and kicked the damp grass with the said boots. "These are my pair," she explained. "Maddy liked them so much she bought replicas."

Before Tabitha could reach the door, he ran past her and eagerly opened it for her. She smiled at him. "Thank you," she graciously said. He nodded, closing it after her. He hurried to the driver's side and slid into the fine, light brown leather and gazed at it admirable.

"Soak it all in," she encouraged, "because it'll be the only time you enjoy it," she explained. "Maddy will never let anyone else touch it." He smirked as he pulled retro styled sunglasses from his pocket and onto his face. She laughed out loud and tossed her head back doing so. He wiggled his eye brows.

"Ready for the ride of your life, sweetheart?" He taunted, putting keys into ignition. He pulled the shift into drive, turning the wheel so he would dart into the road. An uneasy expression crossed her face. _He's probably a worst driver than Maddy herself! _She realized, clenching her teeth as the car jerked forward. She squeaked. _I'm so going to regret this. _

Young Stilinski, on the other hand, was having a blast, laughing loudly as he sped by the houses. She eyed the speedometer. "Oh God," she swore, "You're the sheriff's son! You shouldn't be pushing 50 in a residential area! If we're pulled over, we're screwed!"

"Don't worry," he waved her off. She glared at him and crossed her arms. "I'll just tell them my Dad is the sheriff and he'll handle it," he shrugged it off.

"The car is not registered to either of us," she hissed. "It's the Lundgren's and I'm sure if they are okay with me taking out their daughter's car. I just left a pitiful note saying I was going to use so it wouldn't rot away in the garage and give it gas while I was at it. Let's hope they don't report it stolen!"

"Fine," he exasperated, slowing down his speed to thirty miles per hour. She sighed, relieved.

"Thank you," she said, "soon you can push it when we go on the county roads where no one else goes on them. I promise."

He just scowled. She ignored him.

They came across a stop light. Across the crosswalk a boy from school noticed the car and admired it as he crossed the street. Tabitha smiled at him. Stiles gave him a curt nod and cocky smirk as he rolled down the window and let his arm hand on the ledge.

Tabitha laughed. "Oh boy, you are taking too much enjoyment out of this!"

"I told you to expect the ride of your life," he reminded her with a grin. He noticed the kid still looking at him from the other end of the street. He got an idea. "Tabi," he said.

"What?"

He grabbed her chin and pulled her to him, covering her lips with his own. She gasped in shock before leaning into it, grabbing the back of his neck as he deepened it. She couldn't resist the moan making its way up her throat as his hot hand caressed her cheek.

The boy outside the street gaped in astonishment but also is admiration, as he noticed how attractive the dark haired girl next to Stiles was.

"It's green," he heard her mumbled against his lips. He pulled away slowly to see the light indeed with no longer red but green. He smirked at her while she blushed intensely, turning her head away so she could cover her cheeks. He stomped down on the gas, jerking the car forward into instant acceleration. She felt her stomach twist. _It's not going to be a pleasant drive, _she assured herself grimly.

She felt his hand rest against her knee, drawing patterns into the material of her jeans with his fingers. She covered his hand with her own while resting her head against the glass of her window, watching the small businesses pass by. She glanced at Stiles and smiled while he eyed the road ahead of them, while the radio hummed lowly.

She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and she cringed in fear, thinking of the worst, but when she checked the text message, she sighed in relief to discover it said "ok" instead of "_that was not okay! You bring the car back right this instant!"_ like she had imagined.

Still in Beacon Hills, Derek had driven to the hospital to return to Madison's side, clutching her hand like life support as she still lay lifeless on the cot. Trevor had brought over a thick Sioux quilt and laid it over her body before returning to work. Derek had assured him he'd keep her safe for the time. Trevor thanked him and left shortly after.

"Mads," he whispered to her, closing his eyes as his head fell onto the mattress. He didn't get as much sleep as he would have liked. He barely got a wink in before the nightmares had set in. "You gotta come back soon."

She didn't look the same. She seemed weaker and paler. His upset him greatly. She was nothing like the Madison in his dreams the night before.

She would've had the same coy smile, the one that entrapped him to a dark room with a bed. She would sit on the edge of it, crossing her bare, glimmering, smooth, flawless legs. He would lean over her, slipping his hand under her skirt. She would moan as his hands massaged her thigh…

He snapped himself out of his fantasy, angry at himself that he could be thinking of such things in such an inappropriate time, but he couldn't help it. At one point, both of them had disrobed and were entangled in flesh and sheets. She was fiery and feisty, clawing at him yet holding onto him for dear life as he drove deeper into her. She would scream his name and he would growl hers in her shoulder, holding her waist with one hand and her thigh in another.

He could still imagine the intense heat radiating from both of them. He could picture the haze in her eyes, the pure ecstasy and surprise in her eyes. They were the purest blue he had ever seen. Her mouth was ajar, with gleaming white teeth almost touching her bottom lip, just enough to taunt him. He would claw at her skin, unable to get enough of her. She would arch her body to mold with his. They were a perfect fit. His hands would be tangled in her long locks. She would grab at his shoulder muscles.

He forced himself out of his reminiscing and stared at her fragile frame with hard eyes.

Madison didn't move. She didn't blink. She didn't twitch. She was just still like a faded doll. He brushed some hair out of her face. Her face seemed paler than usual, flushed and almost white. It disturbed him greatly. He held her hand in an iron grip.

In her dreams, she wasn't as calm. In fact, her heart was thumping loudly against her chest as walked beside the bare faced man. She couldn't speak but only stare at him. She kept dropping her gaze to the ground, watching the hems of her dress skim over the dead grass.

The silence was killing her. What the hell was she supposed to do? They barely talked. She stole a glance at the moon, glaring at it as it momentarily blinded her. She didn't think it could be that bright.

"What  
are we supposed to do?" she suddenly demanded, facing the man. "You haven't said anything else to me, _Dad." _She accused, skeptical of the man. Sure, he looked like him –most definitely. He was a replica of her memories but she doubted he actually possessed substance. He didn't act like the man she remembered. "Are you a figment of my imagination or some fraud?" She dared to reach out and grab his cloak, pulling it quickly before letting it go. She glared at him while he glanced at his cloak and then back at her with neutral eyes before they fell into a solemn pair.

"Madison," he began, frowning. She didn't back down. He didn't seem so much disappointed in her or stern but instead remorseful. She wasn't buying it and hid behind cold blue eyes. He understood this and reached out to her, grabbing her shoulder strongly. "I know you're upset and confused. It's natural. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to hold it in for so long but I'm here now."

She didn't budge and kept glaring at him with a sneer. Understanding washed over his face. "Ah, I see now. You are angry with _me_. That's completely natural, too, I suppose..."

She remained silent and seethed wordlessly. He tried to smile but it fell. She felt some sort of empathy for him, realizing the look of hurt was genuine. She didn't turn back around though and stood her ground, refusing to soften for the man.

"Why, may I inquire, are you upset with me?" He began, stepping forward. She felt her bottom lip tremble.

"Why now," she demanded, unleashing emotions she thought she had buried a long time ago. Her voice cracked. "Why now, did you decide to come to me? I have dreamt of you and mom since the fire but they were all memories, things that happened in the past. I could never have _a conversation_ with you or touch you. NO," she exploded. "I had to watch from a distance like some bystander as little ole' me," she lowered her hand to demonstrate the height of her child-like self, "-as little ole' me pranced around and you paid all your attention on _her _and never noticed me, not even just once," she lifted a finger. "Did you not realize I wanted to hear you say something to _me? _I don't know, just small stuff like, I miss you Madison! Or, you've grown so much baby girl, or…" her voice fell as tears flowed down her cheeks. She wiped them with the back of her hand and looked away, avoiding his softened eyes. "Thirteen years," she growled, "thirteen years I was tormented with memories, ones that maybe I was better off forgetting, because no matter what, I couldn't help but cry afterwards, knowing I will _never _be able to experience those again. You were taken away me when I was too young and when I needed you most, you weren't there," she broke, whimpering. She covered her mouth with a fist and turned away, blinking away the tears gathering in her eyes. "You abandoned me. You just left me in the cold."

_It wasn't his fault, _she reasoned with herself. _What could've he done to prevent it? He's dead. There was no chance of him reaching out to you when his charred corpse is six feet under the ground. _She choked out another sob.

He nodded along and swallowed a hard lump. "I know," he whispered. He looked down at her with soulful eyes. "I know I wasn't. I know you had expectations of me as a father and I wasn't there to fulfill them. I let you down and I wish I could've done a better job," he kneeled down and grabbed her arms, forcing her to look down into his eyes. His face was blurry in the glaze of warm tears coating her eyes. "I tried, baby girl, I really did, but I wasn't strong enough." He laid a gentle hand on her cheek and wiped away a stray tear. To him, she looked like he had last seen her, delicate faced, bright cheeks, and crystal, innocent blue eyes. She looked exactly like the four year old he was torn from so long ago. "You and I were in different worlds. There was no way I could've talked to you but I tried," he shook her lightly. "You have to believe me I tried my damnedest but it wasn't enough," he pushed through clenched teeth.

She was shaken by the passion and intensity in his voice, paralyzed in his grip as she sniffled and whimpered.

"I found ways around it, broke a few rules," he explained, rubbing her forearms while staring into her face –so identical to his except for her mother's small note, sharp eyes, and rosy cheeks. "But," he continued, "I couldn't talk to you, not directly. I saw you though and you saw me," he said with a ghost of a smile. "I remember you storming out, with such a fierce look. I couldn't be any more proud, Madison. You've turned out to be more than I would've hoped. You exceeded my expectations."

"Not that I had wanted this kind of life for you," he solemnly admitted, closing his eyes. She felt her environment shift around her but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him. She took in his appearance. He didn't change at all from her memories. He didn't even age a day. "I wanted you to be a happy kid," he continued, standing up, holding her close. "I wanted you to be an innocent one, nothing like me." He pressed her face to his chest and smoothed down her dark hair. She looked blankly at his fabric, noticing it changed design. It was no longer a solid black but stripped. She knitted her eyebrows together, confused, as she fingered the soft cotton.

She forced herself out of his grip and towards her surroundings, gasping as she took in the dramatic change. The sky was bright with the glaring sun over her head, bright exotic greens all around them, with a hint of mint and lilacs in the air. She shielded her eyes with her hand and spun around, recognizing the scene.

"This is…" she started out, pushing a few branches away from her. She boldly stepped forward and entered onto a lawn, stumbling on the grass. She then took in her own change of wardrobe. She was dressed like she had on the day she fell –a simple, long sleeved V-neck tee and dark washed jeans. Her feet were protected with glimmering leather boots. Her hair was loose but remained the same dark color as before. She felt like a stranger, fingering it. It was very different for her.

"Our backyard," he finished for her. She smiled at her.

"But not of our house," she objected, glaring at the tall cabin. "I remember this a long time ago. I remember the lake," she said, turning her head to the silver shore. "I remember the dock," she spotted it, "and you on it, laughing, skipping rocks. I remember Mom on the patio," she turned her head to the backdoor of the cabin. As if she was the narrator, a visualization of a stunning caramel-skinned woman appeared, first in transparency before the stunning indigo color of her dress solidified. A wide-brimmed hat covered her head as the wind blew her black locks off of her bare shoulder. Madison smiled as she realized she and mother now shared the same color.

She adopted a new appreciation for her change of color and fingered her own tips.

Sloane appeared beside her, extending his arm over his daughter's shoulders.

"She's stunning," Madison whispered. She knew her mother was, not just from memory but from photographs but now with the woman in front of her, she could see for herself in the moment how gorgeous she truly was.

"You take a lot after her," Sloane commented. "You got her hair," he said, picking up one of Madison's locks. "You have her face," he admired, smiling down at the roundness of her face. It gave her a sense of innocence he wished so badly she could've kept. "You had her lively spirit," he added.

Just as he said that, they heard laughter from Aubrey's side of the yard. A small child rushed toward the woman's bottom seems and clutched the thing material of her dress, exclaiming loudly something but at the same time, she was incoherent. Aubrey grinned and knelt down and picked up the small child, kissing her nose.

"She loved you so much," Sloane murmured, kissing Madison's temple. Madison blushed. "I do, too, baby girl. You are everything to us."

"Can she see us?" Madison whispered into her father's side.

Sloane shook his head. "Your mother is in a different place. This is just…"

"An illusion," Madison grumbled.

"A projection," Sloane corrected. "We have many coming our way. This is one of the few chances I have to show you everything I know. I only have so much time left. We're on borrow time as it is already."

Madison lifted her head in shocked, mouth ajar, question him silently. He bowed his head ashamed. "I know, sweetheart, this isn't unfair but I'm breaking many rules as it is. We need to hurry and jump to the first lessons. You need to know this stuff before I have to go."

"Go where," she demanded angrily. She didn't want him to go yet. He couldn't. They had just reunited!

"Let's not argue about this," he exasperated. "I don't make the rules," he stated with cold eyes. She gulped. "I'm not happy about it either but we must continue. We have a lot to cover. We have to value this time and make the best of it because I don't think we'll be able to do this in a long time again."

She understood the importance of his speech and nodded along, closing her eyes to hide the tears of the hard truth of it all. She clutched his shirt and then his hand, desperate for his warmth and touch. He understood this and held it close to his heart, also appreciating their close moment. It was good to have his daughter again.

Suddenly, Aubrey and the cabin disappeared, as did the grass, fading into a misty grey, except for the silver lake which remained. Madison's heart dropped as she realized the inevitable heartbreak she experienced before would hit her again as boats began to pile upon the lake, tied to a long dock that had burst from the fog. The cabin was now replaced with an empty parking lot and a small shack besides it.

_St. Peter's Port, _she recalled with bitterness. Sloane didn't share her scowl.

"I can't believe they built over it," she ranted, seething. "What happened? How could they tear down your cabin? How could they destroy our home?"

"It wasn't our home anymore," Sloane answered. "After we died, it was sold to the state and it was there it was decided to become a harbor." His lips formed a straight line. "I was impressed that you returned here." He knew it was natural instinct for a wolf to return to his or her home. It was the only sense of security they had. He, too, had yearned to return to the life he shared with his siblings in Russia but some places you just couldn't go back to because it no longer existed. You had to move on from it and that's what he wanted Madison to learn. She was stuck in the past and it was getting her nowhere.

"I had to go where it all started," she said in despair, "but it too was destroyed. All that was left was the lake," she explained, stepping forward onto the dock, looking across the silver lake and the fog lying over it. The overwhelming smell of salt and minerals stung her nose but it was refreshing. She took it all in with a deep breath. "It was peaceful," she reminisced but her expression was solemn, "but it was heart wrenching at the same time." She passed the sails and the crossed her arms as the came to the end of the dock, peering over the mirror like water. She looked at her reflection with slight curiosity, fascinated by her appearance.

"You learned something along the way," he noted, stepping besides her. She saw her reflection alter in the water, as her face rippled in the water into a younger child. She stepped back, surprised, before returning to her reflection. The child looking back at her stayed the same, smiling at her.

She looked up and realized the sky above her had cleared once again and that her attire had changed once again, returning to the same pair of yoga pants and loose sweater she had worn she day she had visited. Her father's clothing choice had also altered, wearing something more modern. His jeans were faded but crisp, just like his leather jacket, covering whatever shirt he adorned underneath. He unveiled his face and let his hood rest over his shoulders as he smiled down at Madison.

"I still can't get over how much you look like your mother," he commented, ruffling her hair. She giggled and hugged him tightly. He leaned into the hug and held her close, not wanting the moment to end but he knew the time prohibited it. "Now, what did you learn when you were here? You had a revelation," he urged. Madison pulled away and looked at the bay, remembering a feeling of panic as she pulled herself into a distant memory.

"You were talking to mom, when I was a baby," she recalled, turning to her left. In a haze of mist, she could barely see the illusion of her cabin. She turned her back to the bay and walked towards the shore and hopped under the dock, Sloane following behind her. "You had this box," she demonstrated with her hands, "a beautifully carved box, with lettering and pictures," she emphasized. "I couldn't tell what but I remember that there _was_ detail. You put it in the water and it sank," she pointed at her feet where the water crawled under her boots. "I remember it was some sort of memory box."

"Very good, Mads," Sloane congratulated her. "What did you do next?"

Stiles and Tabitha had arrived at the bay, parking close to the dock. They waited inside for a moment in silence, looking at each other before Tabitha made the first move and got out, closing the door behind her. Stiles removed the sunglasses from his head and held them in his palm as he followed suit, locking it with a click of a button. He stayed close to her, holding her waist when he was close enough. The cold air from the bay hit them full once, nipping at Tabitha's neck. Stiles held her closer, protecting her from the window. She nuzzled in his warmth.

"So…do you have any idea why she would be here?" Stiles questioned. His cell phone rang in his pocket and he picked it up immediately, looking at the caller ID, scowled, and returned it into his pocket. "Don't worry, that wasn't important."

"Okay," she gave him the benefit of the doubt. "I don't know. All I can go on is that I had a dream," she recalled, "that she was drowning." She held a hand to her throat, wincing as she remembered the burning of her throat. "I guess this is where it was at." She shrugged, walking forward toward the docks, remembering Madison had walked that way. "It was so cold. She was struggling, diving down deep but her lungs needed air constantly and she couldn't get deep enough."

"Do you think she was trying to kill herself?" Stiles demanded, taken aback by Tabitha's admission. She shook her head.

"No," she objected, uncrossing her arms. "She wouldn't. She was determined on something but I didn't know what. She was searching for something," she pointed at the bay, "but what it was, I don't know. She was willing to risk her life to get it, I can promise you that."


	4. The Truth about Grief

_I wrote this in response to a local tragedy of a classmate in our school as well as some left over unresolved angst over a person death I've experienced two months ago...it was really tough and writing this brought out a lot of personal issued that gave this little addition true depth -althought not really connected to the story but close enough that the characters are a tool to express my grief and emotions. _

_I had lost a friend -not just a friend but a __**best friend **__who's been with me since childhood. I can't remember a day without him. It was so sudden... One day he's healthy and yapping away and within three days, he doesn't weak and struggling to walk...he didn't want to be with anyone...he wanted to die alone and it was hard to deal with it, because I watched him suffer and wither away until he passed away. It was awful. I would not wish that for anyone and because of that, I wrote this in Madison's perspective. I can't express the pain and anguish I felt coming home with nothing but his blanket and having to clean up his things he left behind...It was like I had to erase him and push him away and I felt like I betrayed him in doing so... I think what really made me crumble was watching him go, within that second, having his heart just __**stop **__and watching his body being covered with a blanket and taken away. It was tough, too, because he was the only one I felt welcomed by at my mom's place and because she's emotionally cut off, it was hard to really feel comforted. Sure, I got three gifts from my dad and grandma (and eventually my mom after two weeks) and because of the grief, I had to take two days of work off because I couldn't keep it together and would just break down crying, and then I had panic attacks for the first time where I couldn't breathe and would struggle. People would try to comfort me but talking about it hurt too much. It was first and foremost that I felt the full blow of losing someone that meant __**everything **__to me. Having to return home and not see his face was unbearable. _

_It was two months ago and talking about it now is just as awful...Bringing this up in the first time in two months was difficult but also healing because it gave me a new perspective and if anyone out there is feeling just as hopeless or destroyed over a death, I really hope it helps, because it helped me in a way. If you want to talk some more, I'm free to message and I hope I can help you as much as I can. I know with the recent death of my classmate brought up a lot of emotions and a lot of people don't know how to handle them. It's the first time for most of them feeling this way. _

* * *

_From a young age, I was hit with the reality that death is inevitable…_

I'll tell you right now, you can _imagine_ the pain all you want, you can try to _think_ of the torment and anguish one must feel when confronted with the cold flesh of a loved one, but the truth it, you can't even conjure one ounce of that pain until you experience it first hand –watch it from above, clutching it, as if begging for it to have mercy and spare this one person, this one significant person who you know in your heart doesn't deserve it ending.

I couldn't hold my father or my mother in their last moments because I was hidden away, sheltered from the scene that would most inevitably traumatize me, and it did, no matter what efforts my parents tried to shield me from that painful experience.

At first I was resentful –just as fate in general, for inflicting such a brutal, unforgiving, unrelenting blow to my family. I was also resentful for being a coward…I was also angry at my parents for not giving me a hug. It's a simple, silly, and ridiculous motion but during the chaos, they seemed to forget to assure me it was alright –even if it wasn't, but I was a child and that reassurance was crucial to my psyche and they neglected that. That right there, I thought was a mistake on their part, until I was put in the same shoes forty five years later.

I should've lived longer but even the 'invincible' (my daughter penned me) get stuck in situations even enhance strength can't get you out of. It was a sudden accident and in most scenarios, I would've been unaffected but as a mother and grandmother, you have a duty to protect your children and when that gun was pointed at my granddaughter, I acted. I didn't think, I didn't yell. I jumped and just in time to intercept the wolf-bane lined bullet.

It hit an artery and no doctor could stop the bleeding or poisoning but I was given just enough time to prepare my goodbyes. Within two hours, my whole family stood by my bedside as I struggled to keep conscious. Despite the loss of blood, I felt warm in the presence of my doting husband, my beautiful kids –Natalie, Ava, and Kristen. 3 beautiful, strong, accomplish girls –all of whom inherited both lines of strong blood from my husband and I, and yet in that moment, I could exactly tell why my parents acted the way they did.

I saw the hopelessness in their eyes –both blue and green -and the denial that I knew would hurt them in the end. I didn't want them to see this. I didn't want to subject themselves to the same trauma I felt years ago, but instead of listening, they saw it, watched it, observed it, and no matter how close they were to me, clutching my body like they did as children whenever they woke up from a nightmare. It reminded me of how much I sheltered them. This was a whole new spectrum of reality for them that I didn't prepare them for and it hurt me inside to know in one way –in the best way I thought I could protect them –I had hurt them the most. My husband seemed to understand my dilemma and held my hand, fighting back his own tears. I found it strangely odd he was to outlive me. (He had the worst eating habits out of all of us, but then again, this wasn't really considered a natural death anyways.)

I wanted them out of the room, in the comfort of Tabitha's arms. She was almost their second mother –Natalie's Mother-in-law actually –but not just because she was a close friend but also because she dealt with death everyday –being a therapist at the local Vet's clinic. She would know how to console them. They didn't need to see this. They knew what happened. That was enough. They shouldn't watch me wither and die like this.

I tried to tell my husband to get them out and they fought it with such veracity it startled me. "They get it from you," he told me, a grim smile on his lips. I swallowed painfully.

"No mom," Natalie persisted, snarling. She held onto me like she used to and although her grip was somewhat painful, I found it comforting. I felt connected to her. "I'm staying here with you!" I knew why. She was hoping –hanging –on the thin thread of hope I would pull through like I had on every other occasion. I shook my head at the sad reality.

"You don't need to see this," I begged her. Ava sobbed loudly next to her. She was the one who was coddled the most. She easily got upset at any slight turbulence. Tabitha stepped in with dry eyes –she was cold for now but I knew after my final breath it would be a whole difference story. Her son –Todd –stood faithfully by Natalie and shifted awkwardly in the chaos. He, too, was coddled by his mother but at least he understood my diagnosis –he was paramedic. He knew this was a part of life. Tabitha picked up Ava –who fought it violently but despite her heritage, my Beta was much stronger and more forceful than the twenty six year old. She dragged her outside and held her back. I was thankful for it. Though she protested –loudly –Ava didn't know how bad it was for her to witness this part of death.

Kristen was shaking and collapsed over me, holding me for dear life. I tried to think of how to console her. Stiles smoothed down her hair as she held onto me. Her eyes were dry though but I knew that moment of denial had to be shattered by the truth and as much as it pained me to break it, I knew that my daughters had to hear it –it would be one of the last good things I could leave them with. I had to know I would leave this earth with them okay, even if it hurt them, like it would hurt me, I knew that now was better than never.

"I'm going," I announced to them but found my own strength wavering in my voice. I choked, and I heard Kristen do the same. My throat constricted but I fought it. "There's nothing I can do but I have to go now," my bottom lips curled as my eyes watered. I could feel my lips trembling. I closed them momentarily, hiding the hurt from my daughters but they weren't blind. They knew what was happening. "I love you, I want you know that," I hoarsely said, clutching Kristen's light blond hair –the oddity of the family as everyone else had dark hair. That's what made her my baby –other than her being the youngest. "I know we had some tough moments but I wouldn't trade those years in for anything else," I assured them after snuffling. Natalie's composure broke and she cried out incoherent words, bubbling over her own objections but I forced myself to speak over her. "This moment was coming sometime or later," I choked, feeling a long trail of tears slip down my cheek, "and we weren't prepared but we have to deal with it," I pushed. "I want you to be strong, babies," I spoke softly, pulling Natalie down to kiss her cheeks. Her cheeks, too, were wet and warm. I looked into her eyes and forced her to stare in mine so she could see the depth of the situation.

"I miss you mom," she smothered out before falling into me.

"I'll miss you, too," I cried back, holding her tightly just like I had when she was first born. She was so small and delicate I had to be gentle with her but now she was grown with her own children but I couldn't see her any differently. "I'll be with you, everywhere you go. When you need me, just talk, okay? I'll listen and that's all you need to know. You're not alone and when you need me, I'll be there."

I didn't want to tell her that there was a chance she _could _really talk to me, to see my face, because I couldn't break those rules like my father had. She needed to be strong and walk on her own. She couldn't fall back on me anymore. She needed to grow on her own. I just had to fill her head with the motion that in her heart, her memories of me would reassure her just like my memories of my parents reassured me during my difficult times.

Kristen shook violently on my body, feeling utterly hopeless knowing there was nothing she could do to keep me. I would be gone by the end of the night and I would never be revived again. Ava screamed profanities outside and I knew Tabitha was holding her back.

My husband cried softly at my side, shaking and trembling. He, too, was struggling with the concept I wouldn't return home tomorrow. I tried to think of the years we spent, 35 officially, but 40 if you include the 5 years we spent dating, and another five for the years we spent arguing. We've grown inseparable. He was there during all of the births, during my depression after Ava's birth… I owed him so much and he gave me so many great memories, so many great gifts and experiences and lessons…I turned my head and rubbed a hand over his cheek, stroking it softly. He was my rock, my excitement, my stability, my thrill…he was the one who made my life complete. He was the person I looked forward to when I got home. Our relationship was so intimate and close, like wind and a river.

"You take care of the girls," I begged him. "You make sure they don't follow down the wrong path, okay?"

"I don't know what I going to do without you," he burst, staring at me with watery green eyes, the ones Ava inherited.

"Just live," I pushed, holding his face tightly although my sight was blurred with hot tears. "Don't wait back and let life pass you. You have to make the best of it and move on," I emphasized. "You have to keep moving, for yourself and the girls. They need you. Our friends need you. I'm not the only person in the world, honey. There are others who love you and need you. Remember that, for my sake, please, remember that, don't give up on life just because I'm not here. Changes come every day and we can't pity ourselves because we can't control what happens."

He nodded slowly before kissing my lips lightly. It tasted bitter and salty but it fit for the moment.

My daughters clung to me and I forced myself to push them off after they clung a moment too long. They needed to start realizing they couldn't rely on me anymore. They had to move on and this was the moment. I was already borrowing time that was futile. Natalie looked at me with hurt eyes. Kristen fought for one more touch but my husband pushed her back. They were to soon join Ava outside.

Before he could grab Natalie, I whispered the one thing in her ear that my father couldn't.

"Don't hunt them down," I struggled to say because of exhaustion. I sunk into my cot. "It won't help. It'll only bring more pain. Don't be like them. I want you to be happy and pure just like your dad and I raised you to be. You don't want your daughters to think of you as a murderer. Don't walk through the same mistakes I did," I gasped for air, feeling my heart fade away. I smiled gravely while I watched her get pulled away. She cried out for me and I couldn't but revert to the memory of her as a five year old, crying for me in the same hysterical, hopeless voice when I left her in the classroom on her first day of school. She was so scared and all I wanted to do was gather her up in my arms and hold her tight but she had to learn…

I wanted them to know that my purpose was done. I lived a good life. I had a happy, single marriage, three wonderful children and two grandchildren. I lived a life my parents wanted me to live. I was happy. I was content. I felt accomplished. I left nothing behind or unfinished. I didn't need to be on this earth any longer.

It was selfish to ask for someone back because _you want _them, too. I understood to yearning and angst for the comfort and physical consoling but the same reassurance could be provided by memories and pictures, too. We as social creatures are used to different reassurances, physical presences and faces…we forget we only have a limited time on this earth and that we can't break those rules.

I felt at peace knowing I did the right things –even if it hurt –but I would not have it any other way. My granddaughter survived. I know my daughter cherished her daughter and I would rather she have the chance to raise that beautiful little girl for a whole lifetime than have a few extra years with me. It was a noble trade.

The doctor came in as my heart failed. My spirit lifted and all the pain stopped. The agony of my aching side vanished, the heaviness in my chest eased, and the taste of blood no longer tainted my mouth. I felt so much better and knowing I did the right thing made it greater. I felt a warmth overcome me and I returned to a familiar body of a younger-self, my better years, barely twenty, and besides me, my mother, with a glowing smile, and to my right on the opposite side, stood my father. He was happy, too, because I died like I should've. I lived the life he wanted and now that it was over, I could be welcomed rightfully into the afterlife with the rest of my passed family.

Natalie, Ava, and Kristen would feel horrible, just like I did, to say the least for quite a while, each amount of time depending. Natalie would get over it the fastest –although it wouldn't be immediate. Her hurt will stay for at least a few years but with Madeline to take care of, she would force herself to be strong. Ava would have it the worst. She felt betrayed and denied that she couldn't spare the last few minutes with me and she would tell that to me secretly during the wake when she'd lean over my casket and kiss my cold, pale forehead.

"I need you mom," she begged. I would've answered "no you don't" if I could but I let her cry because it was something I knew needed to happen. She had to let it out before it was bottled up in her. "I love you so much," she said. "I miss you and the simple things you did, how you'd hover me and watch those stupid romance comedy movies with me or buy me ice cream over a bad break-up," she explained. I smiled in the background, remembering every single one of those moments, loving the time we spent on the couch talking it out and cursing out the bastard who broke her heart and later watching her gobble up her mint flavored ice cream as if she'd been starved. I felt satisfied I could provide her just the small stuff like that to know I supported her and loved her. She was important to me and I could spend every minute I could with my daughters to prove to all of them they were my priority. "You were a great mom, no one can replace you," she sobbed. I smiled. I didn't ask her to replace me. There wasn't a need to replace me. I served my purpose and she grew into the lovely young woman she is today because of it. I was no longer essential to her development. I had completed my job.

Kristen found comfort in my wake from the stories people told, how much of a fearless protector I was, a loving and doting mother, and an amazing cook. My husband took the stage and described all our moments, when we first realized we loved each other, our wedding day, our first child, the miscarriage, the second, and the third. He told everyone how much he loved his daughters and that he was blessed Todd could be Natalie's soul mate and Madeline's father and wished the same happy outcome for Ava and Kristen.

It was bittersweet but at the end of the day, that's life, and as much as you feel like you want to keep everyone close to you, there comes a moment you have to let them go. No hour or minute will matter. Save that for someone else. When it's time to go, it's time, and you can't mess with destiny. Say that you love them, show them you care, and never take a second for granted.


	5. Madison

She stared down at the water with cold eyes. She remembered the bitter cold nipping at her bare skin and cringed at the memory. She remembered plunging in, boldly jumping into the water with nothing but her undergarments. She remembered the water fighting her, pushing up against her face, forcing her to resurface but she persevered, pushing against the current to get to the bottom.

She didn't know how on earth she was crazy enough to find an old box which was probably carried out to the middle of harbor and left to rot, along with the unknown contents in it, but she was driven with madness, she admitted to herself. She was desperate and alone and she didn't care if she didn't come up. She had to find _something_.

She was driving herself to her death she had realized when the pressure of the depths popped her ears. The ringing in her ears made it hard to concentrate as the water began to darken into black. She felt her lungs shrivel and her heart beating loudly in her head, almost competing against the ringing. It all became too much as she turned away from the black depths and kicked to the surface as her natural survival instincts took over her numb body. She gasped for air as she burst above the surface, clawing for balance as waves crashed against her, submerging her again. She fought it with all her strength and pushed above the surface again, struggling against the current pushing her to the boats docks alongside the aisle and focused straight to the shore she had leapt from. Slowly she kept the cold, rough concrete of the slope dipping into the water with her calloused fingertips and she crawled to the surface and open-air, weighed down by her own slimy skin and soaked hair sticking to her back. She coughed violently, covering it with her hand, feeling more water coat her palm as she cleared her lungs of the water.

She tried to open her eyes but when she did, they burned with tears.

She pulled herself out of her memory and felt her, reassuring herself she was safe and dry from the cold.

"Why would you do that?" Sloane demanded angrily, shaking his daughter by her shoulders. "Why would you put yourself in danger like that?" She looked dazed for a second before a serious look crossed her face.

"I don't know," she started, sighing. "I wanted to find something but like usual, I come up short. It's like every piece of you has been covered, concealed, or censored. You just vanished from my life and I am willing to look in every dark corner even if it's just a scrap of you. Is that too much to ask for?"

"Maybe it's for the better," Sloane argued with harsh eyes. "You don't seem to understand how seriously you could've been hurt, or even killed! Do you not realize the consequences that would follow? How many people that would hurt? Don't you remember how you felt when I went away? Imagine that on Frank and Trevor, Tabitha and Stiles, Scott and Derek…"

"It wouldn't matter," she interrupted him. "Death is death," she spat out. "We all die anyways, it wouldn't matter when," she growled. Sloane's face paled as he took in her words.

"You don't mean that Mads," he whispered.

"I do," she affirmed, glancing at him from over her shoulders after she had distanced herself from him. "Death surrounds us," she rationalized, "hell, I even delivered it," she closed her hands into shaking fists. "What makes my own any difference?"

"You're not thinking rationally," Sloane objected. "You are on the brink of death now, which is why we must hurry. This is _critical_. The faster we can get all of this done, the quicker we can return you to safety."

"I'm in a coma," Madison argued, shrugging her shoulders. "I fell on my head, probably snapping my neck. The chances of me surviving are slim to none, and even if I did survive, I'll be paralyzed and I'll be damned if I'm confined to that kind of life. I'd rather they just pull the plug now."

"You're stronger than that Mads," Sloane demanded. He shook her shoulders. "You are one of a kind. I know you'll pull through. You'll make a full recovery. You just have to focus on that. Right now, the reason you aren't there with your family –your _living family_ –is because you _don't want_ to go back and you _should_."

Madison knitted her eyebrows in confusion. "Do you not want me here? Why are you so eager to return me?"

"The only reason you want to stay here," Sloane explained, "is because I'm here."

"Of course," Madison agreed eagerly. Her eyes were wide and pure like a child's. His face softened. "I haven't seen you in forever," she explained. "Why would I want to leave you when I know I'll never get the chance again? I can't live without you, Dad."

"But you have," Sloane argued painfully, "and you will." He soothed down her hair. "I've always been there for you. I may not have been touchable but every marking stone in your life I _have been there_. Remember on your first day of kindergarten? You looked adorable with your new, pretty uniform. I know you didn't think I was there but I was watching you and I couldn't be any happier." He touched her cheek and she covered his large hand with hers. His warmth brought a gentle smile to her face. His words were more comforting than she could've imagined, and his voice was the therapy she needed a long time ago.

Suddenly his smile dropped. "I was watching you from afar but when I spotted danger, I couldn't do anything. I watched as you put yourself in situations that could've sent you in the same dark place I'm in. You don't understand death, Mads. You've seen it but you don't know its consequences, on _either_ side. You know part of the feeling first hand, the anguish and helplessness you felt ever since your mom and I left, but I can't understand how you didn't even consider Frank in your decision to stay here. You don't even know what happens here. He's lost Aubrey in the most traumatic way possible and you're the only thing left of her. With you gone, he has nothing. You're his daughter, Mads. Not his niece but _his daughter_. He raised you –taking over where I left off. He's just as much your father as I am and I know deep down you know that, too. Think about his pain," Sloane convinced. Madison swallowed a difficult lump as she was rammed with the truth. She felt like she going to topple over, as if she was just punched in the gut.

The distant roar of waves around them faded as did the grey of the clouds looming over them, replaced by blinding white. She had to narrow her eyes to focus on her stern father. He grabbed her hands and pulled her forward, guiding down the hall.

"I know first-hand the panic I felt when I was told you weren't going to make it," he began, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulder. She leaned into his warmth as they navigated down the glaring halls. A couple of nurses passed them like transparent ghosts, disappearing into the air after a few steps. Madison felt like she was in a trance watching them fade and reappear with no consistent pattern.

"You wouldn't remember it," Sloane continued. "You were only three." They stopped in front of an open door. Inside, Madison recognized Aubrey –dressed loosely in jeans and a sweater –hovering over a small, blue bundled mass. Madison instantly recognized the small mass as herself but as a child.

"What happened?" She demanded, staring at the foreign image. She was taken aback by the new revelation and looked up at her father for support and an explanation but only found a pained expression as some sort of answer.

"It gets me everything," he admitted softly. "I tried my best to protect you from all the harm that could come to you and then one day, you had a fever of a hundred and five. I couldn't do anything about it and that's what scared me the most."

"But I obviously survived," Madison pointed out, pointing to herself.

"Almost," Sloane mumbled. "The third day we didn't think you were going to make it. The fever rose and you were getting worse. You slipped away from us slowly and there was no way I would be able to get you back so I had to go to someone who could."

"Who," Madison inquired curiously, tilting her head.

"My dad," Sloane replied. Madison's bright blue eyes widened.

"But he's dead, he had been for a long time," she argued in disbelief.

Sloane nodded. "Exactly," he started. "He could possibly meet you at wherever you were. I hoped he would guide your spirit back to us. We all knew it wasn't your time yet." He grabbed her hand tightly. "You were too young to face that fate yet. So I went outside the room and begged him to intercept your spirit and bring you back."

They glanced over their shoulders and spotted Sloane's younger apparition outside on a bench with his face in his hands. He was whispering something and as Madison tuned in her ears, she caught onto his words.

"_Dad, you have to find her. She's all I have. Guide her back, please. If you can do that, that's all I ask. She's too young Dad. I've done my damnedest to protect her and spare her from the close calls we did but…but…" _

He slammed his fist at his side, cracking the wood of the arm of the bench. Madison flinched. Aubrey didn't even bother lifting her head from the younger Madison's stomach, undisturbed by his acting out. Madison suspected Aubrey was tempted to do the same but her natural sweet temper forbids her from breaking her saintly mold.

_"Dad, you better bring her back for so help me God…" _

He lifted his head and leaned back, exposing red, burning eyes of that of a grieving father and frustrated Alpha. Just as quickly they appeared, they faded back into the bright blue she had inherited.

"I was desperate," Sloane explained, clutching her hand.

"Did he come through?"

"You're here, aren't you?" He grinned. "I don't know how he did it but he brought you back."

Madison turned her attention to the little girl. Her bright, innocent eyes fluttered and she stumbled over words, capturing Aubrey's attention.

"Sloane, Sloane! She's Awake!" Aubrey urged, screaming. Little Madison winced at the volume and looked at her mother with trusting, wholesome eyes. Madison felt a smile tug at her face. She can't remember a moment like that before but felt a new sense of relief and comfort now that she could add that tender moment to her memory. Sloane noticed this, too, and brought her closer to him.

"Mommy," Little Madison mumbled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. "Mommy, why are you crying? What happened? Is daddy okay? Where is daddy?"

"Oh sweetheart," she cried out, hugging the little girl for dear life. Sloane came in and came on the other side of the cot and did the same, almost smothering her. "You're awake! She's awake! Get the doctor!" She screamed.

Aubrey got up and rushed to the doorway and started wailing. "SOMEONE, ANYONE, WE NEED A DOCTOR! GET A DOCTOR IN HERE!"

Sloane focused in on her and touched her cheek. "Baby, what do you remember?"

Little Madison furrowed her brows. "I saw a man, mommy. It was dark and he took my hand and took me somewhere."

"Where," Aubrey demanded.

"I don't know," little Madison shook her head. "I don't remember but he said it wasn't time yet and I woke up."

Understand swept over her facial features and she swept her daughter in a hug, mumbling something about angels but Sloane knew otherwise and smiled softly to himself.

"Thanks dad," he whispered before leaning forward to join his wife and daughter.

"I don't remember," Madison whispered to herself, narrowing her eyes into the blank air. "I can't remember any of this." She watched the scene before her with concentrated amazement.

"Because," another voice said from behind them, "I made you forget about it. You're young mind didn't need to acknowledge to dark side of life yet –or should I say, afterlife."

Madison spun around to face the new figure and gaped as an elderly man joined them, putting a gentle hand on both their shoulders. "Nice to see you again Madison," he smiled down at her. He turned to Sloane, "you, too, son."

Sloane smiled at the older man and nodded. Madison stumbled over words, "grandpa?"

Edik beamed down at Madison. "She gets it the first time! I guess this is our first formal meeting," he started, unlatching his arm from his son's shoulder and grabbing Madison's embracing her in a strong, possessive hug. She swayed, looking wide eyed at her father who only shrugged.

"Well Madison," Edik gleamed, grabbing her face with strong palms, examining her strong, dignified cheekbones and eyes. "You certainly take after your father," and then he picked up a strand of her dark hair, "except for your hair but that makes no difference. You have the eyes to prove it all. You're one of us." He grinned with pride. "And you certainly proved yourself to be these past years."

"Dad," Sloane hissed. "That's not something we want to condone."

Edik shrugged his shoulders. "We're going to get to that part one way or another. You should be proud she's a strong, capable young woman."

"It's not the life I wanted for her," Sloane disagreed.

"You can't escape destiny," Edik retorted with a grin. "I know I wasn't much of a violent type during my older years but just like our little girl here, and as you were, we all have a bit of fight in us." He sent her a wink. "Don't listen to your dad," he teased, "he was worse than you were. He was absolutely lethal."

"Dad," Sloane snapped. "Let's not advocate brutality."

Edik laughed gruffly. "Oh son, you didn't expect us to shove Madison's face into her 'mistakes' like you would a dog with its shit, right? Let's not make this biased. We'll be visiting your 'mistakes' too." He warned mischievously. He turned to Madison with a grin. "You'll see what kind of family you come from."

Sloane growled loudly. "Don't be so proud dad. You ran away from it, too. You know our history is not the proudest to be fond of. You shouldn't be advocating and parading our reputation to Madison. I do not want her adapting your radical ideas."

Edik simply chuckled. "Yes, I'm aware of our bloody past, _Sloane, _but we can't deny it or run from it. It runs through our veins, our eyes, and our souls. We worked hard to be where we are at and I'll be damned if we abandon all our efforts. Centuries of warfare and spilled blood, only to hide like cowards?" Edik was no louder than before, passionate, blazing red as his eyes enflamed from electric blue to a raging red. "No, Madison would not _adopt _our views –as she already has –but I want her to embrace it, to learn from it, for her to strengthen her inner wolf and beast that is within us."

Madison let out a shaky breath and stepped back, wearing of Edik, reminded too much of Gerard. Sloane took notice and glared at his father.

"You're scaring her," Sloane warned, stepping between them. Edik's eyes softened immediately and he sighed.

"I'm sorry, _little one," _he spoke in Russian before returning to messy English. "Sloane knows more than anyone that I can be excited easily." He smiled meekly. "I'm not as radical as he makes me out to be. Instead, I see myself more as a realist. Son," he addressed him, "I'm not asking her to take up our forgotten fight. I want her safe as much as you do, and since we can't do that, I want her to know everything she is capable of so her foes think twice before attempting to take advantage of her."

Sloane was hesitant to agree but swallowed his pride and stepped aside, unveiling his only daughter to the hands of his father who took the young girl under his arm. He held her at arms lengths and guided her outside the room.

_Derek Hale _

His eyes were focused on Madison's sleeping figure. They were critical and sharp, narrowed as he took in her facial features. Her expression was calm and content, opposite of the situation at hand, but it made him wonder what she could be thinking of. Her eyes fluttered slightly, as he could tell by her long black lashes. Her hand was warm in his, and he kept it firm in his grasp, using his thumb to feel her steady pulse.

He glanced down at her nails. Perfectly manicured, he mused, glancing at the white thin tips of her nimble fingers. He turned away and returned his attention to her face.

Outside, a pair of nurses gossiped about the odd pair, under the assumption the glass between them protected them from being heard. Unfortunately for the young pair, Derek's hearing was far more superior in comparison to human created barriers.

_"He's way too old for her," _one criticized, shooting him a heated look with a strict set of disapproving brown eyes.

_"He looks like trouble, too," _her co-worker agreed, referring to his dark leather attire.

He mentally agreed with them on some level, acknowledging long ago how different Madison and he were. She was raised in a much different environment than he was, lived in a nicer district with a secure household income to support her and her designer clothes. He was the equivalent of a street rat –which he was, living scarcely on what he had –except for the Camaro his sister had brought for him from his inheritance. He didn't indulge in expensive clothes or technology or finer things Madison had grown accustomed to. But, she wasn't the typical snotty rich girl she made herself out to be.

He knew first hand her true nature –the down-and-dirty, (very) intelligent and cunning mindset, and unwavering focus that captivated him. She was a woman who knew what she wanted, was brutally honest (to him at least, on the occasions they met) and wasn't afraid to do whatever necessary to achieve her goal. It'd been a while since he met a girl like that.

He often wondered if he would've met her somewhere else if it wasn't for the Argents. Fate was tricky and clearly defined –as it was their pasts that brought them together. If it wasn't for Kate and Chris, they most likely would have never met. She probably would be far from here, somewhere safe and reserved. But, Derek couldn't help but wonder if there was ever a circumstance that –if Argent wasn't in the equation –would the two ever cross paths? He pursed his lips in a fine, serious line, thinking deep on it.

Would she have moved to Beacon Hills anyways? Yes. There, they would've crossed paths sometime…while she was running? Maybe Scott would've introduced them? Maybe she would've come across his scent and followed him?

Would she pay any attention to him if that had been the case or would she still be cold and distant? He wondered if her parents were still alive, would she have been kinder, warmer, and welcoming to even the slightest display of affection? Sure she would've, Derek convinced himself. Her parents would have spoiled her just as her Uncles had, and she would've been the naïve, cocky, flirty even…

He smirked, thinking about it.

She would be daddy's little girl with a rebellious streak, always wandering on her own path, dressing opposite of what daddy dearest would want. Her shoes were high, her skirts short, and her jeans tight, so would her tee shirts. Her hair would be flawless still –but would it be blond? He had grown accustomed to the color but his mind drifted back to the small picture Hannah Martin had shown him of the dark haired beauty with stunning dark blue eyes. Her whole face would change if she reverted back to her natural dark locks. His lips straightened into a serious firm line. He wasn't sure if he could handle that. Her icy blue eyes, yes, as he had grown used to them glaring at him…but dark blue eyes? What could hide into those depths? He shivered. Present Madison and Alternative Madison would be two different people.

He returned to his earlier thoughts about what she could've been like. In that alternate universe where Sloane never perish, Derek assumed she wouldn't realize the important of the man –not to the amount present Madison had when he was taken too soon from her. She would cross the law sometimes but somehow sweet talk herself out of a ticket. She would be the girl in the back of the class, giggling with her followers who adored her like lost puppies. Why wouldn't they? She was naturally beautiful and confident and took over the school –she would probably be the very same girl to run Lydia out of town. He snickered at that thought.

No one would catch the fact she wasn't human except for Scott and when that time came, the two would confront and Scott would insist on Madison helping him with his new-found change. She would be hesitant, cold, not caring in the least about him until her father stepped in and remind her to do the right thing and help a fellow Lycan in need.

But what if Sloane was a hermit and didn't want her fraternizing with other werewolves? Derek frowned. She was after all one of the last remaining branches of the original werewolves-in Russia at least. Derek shook the thought aside.

After a week of deliberation, Madison would cave in and assist Scott. Sometime later, Derek and she would cross paths. He would be immediately attracted to the stunning blond –he was still insistent she keep her light golden locks. Her figure would be athletic and her face almost model like, defined and colored with the right amount of pink and gold to contrast her skin and eyes. She would say something cold and insulting to him and he wouldn't care. He would press on for weeks, sliding in compliments that failed to make her blush –she heard them all before. Finally, after a moment of weakness, when Peter –in this alternate scenario, the two hadn't even met _(just Derek would've like, feeling awkward with his Uncle and Madison sharing a more (emotional and mental) intimate relationship than he ever accomplished with her)_ –after Peter shook her to her core, he intervene and protect her, gaining a new respect and perspective from her where different possibilities could form.

But, he smiled grimly, that was not reality. The sad fact would be she lost both of her parents, growing cold as a child and forever distant but cunning, using her mental weapon of ultimate manipulation and investigation to terrify those who did her wrong and eventually end them. She was a killer, not a pretty, preppy princess or classic case daddy's girl. She would've been but unfortunate, fate decided a different route.

He sighed loudly, letting his head fall on her cot, closing his eyes in exhaustion.

Madison was in her own fantasies, watching from a distance on a hill, squinting as a hazy fog covering over the field in the early morning air. Sloane loomed over her protectively, holding her tight with a painful grip on her shoulder. She could feel the tenseness in his fingertips but was too weary to question why, shooting a glimpse at her grandfather whose face had contorted into a frightening coldness. It sent a chill down her spine.

"Where are we?" She demanded softly to her father. Sloane took note of his father's coldness.

"_When_ are we, is the question," Sloane corrected her just as softly. Edik didn't add any input at he glared down at the mass gathering below, "and I do believe we are in the midst of the Second World War."

Edik nodded along, "before actually," Edik announced harshly. "This would be a couple of years before the US intervened. You should know enough to know the Soviet Union was divided and took over many of the smaller countries –buffer zones we called them. My mother had the misfortune to follow her new husband from our home town of –Uglich –to escape the terror of war."

"But it isn't the war yet," Madison objected, confused.

Edik shook his head. "Not that war, darling, a different one. You'll learn about it soon enough." She closed her mouth and let her grandfather continue.

"My father was a part of the militia," he nodded to the men in dark blue looming over a ditch. "He was a part of that group."

Suddenly a loud, piercing shot roared through the air, in perfect succession, prompting a thick, impenetrable cloud of smoke. Madison jumped high and clung to her father, frightened and shook. Edik was unmoved. His eyes looked down shamefully to the ground. He closed them in respect and Madison understood why.

The men in blue were no longer there but deep in the ditch, piled over each other. Woman who had the misfortune of witnessing the massacre cried out, wailing, echoing over the flat valley. Madison hid her face in her father's coat.

"Sloane," Edik forced, "show her what she needs to see."

Sloane forced Madison away, turning her head sharply back to the scene. They had somehow transported to the sidelines along with the woman, one in particular stood out from the crowd. Her eyes were wide with shock but the cold blueness of her pupils did not shed tears. She held a delicate hand to her mouth, and used her other to hold and young boy close to her. The boy cried loudly into the young woman's dress, holding her tight.

"Edik," she urged, kneeling down and grabbing his elbows, forcing him to look straight into her eyes –his eyes, inheriting the same deep blueness. "You must stay strong, for me," she spoke in thick Russian Madison understood easily. The beautiful young mother glided her fingers over the boy's soft, red ridden cheeks. "Hush now," she kissed his forehead and held him close to her breasts, cooing him to silence while the other woman sobbed and groaned in agony of heartache.

Just as she said this, an officer in blue approached the hoard of distressed women, eyeing the particular woman in faded yellow holding her young son. He stepped forward and suddenly the slender woman took a different stance, an obvious one to Madison but the officer could not identify how much danger he was in. Only the family of Lycans could identify each other and Sloane, Madison, and Edik knew well enough their origins descended from that exact woman as her eyes glowed a fierce red, shielded by the shade of the trees. The officer couldn't catch it though as her eyes reverted back to a beautiful, crystal blue.

"Woman," he demanded –German obviously, probably one of the many soldiers who delivered the barrage of bullets that killed her husband. "What is your name?"

She stood up bravely, catching the attention of the woman who receded back in fright –of both the enemy solider and the strange woman. The boy hid behind her skirt, hiding behind the thin, weak fabric.

"Tatiana," she answered clearly, staring at him directly, undeterred. He raised a brow at her boldness, surprised by her confidence. Perhaps it was her motherly instincts taking place. Either way, her bravery enticed him, as did her slim physique and physical features. Her hair was dark and curled in an up do, pulled away from her face into a firm bun. Her lips were pink and full, with a small beauty mark left to her mouth. She seemed ordinary –not completely flawless as Madison's creamy complexion but the woman's skin nonetheless was smooth like marble and her dark features gave her an exotic twinge Madison was slightly awed by.

She shared the same reaction with the officer who raised his head in in great approval, definitely impressed by her physical appeal.

"Tatiana who," he demanded, stepping forward. She hid her son behind her skirt, glaring at the Nazi boldly, daring him to take another step with icy eyes, threatening to burst into a yellow –as her Omega status detached her from the Volkov clan, thus degrading her to the lowest of food chain but something in her remained, something Madison could sense was formidable. She shook anxiously, anticipating what bloodshed would most likely occur, since the Nazi officer overlooked the obvious signs.

It would be his doom.

The other women eyes each other wearily, wondering the same thing, unsure of the strange woman who had intercepted their lives a few months ago and kept to herself and also fearful of the Nazi officer who had just annihilated their men, husbands and sons and fathers. They doubted what the strange woman could do but at the same time, secretly, hopelessly, clinging to their last shed of hope that this woman would save them.

"Tatiana Edinburg," she replied lowly, suppressing the growl threatening to slip past her throat. Her control astounded Madison who was unsure she would've done the same in that situation.

Tatiana looked back to a woman her age cowering behind an older woman –presumably her mother. Tatiana nodded to her son and motioned with a curt nod toward the pair to join them. The younger woman –a lighter haired girl of probably 16 –perked and grabbed Edik quickly, capturing him in tender, caring arms, although he fought her. He cried out for his mom hopelessly, bursting into tears.

The scene hit Madison like a cold memory of her own anguish and she subconsciously grabbed onto her father, taking in his musky scent, suddenly relaxed by his presence. He felt the same type of anxiety and hugged her closely, soothing down her hair.

"Edik," Tatiana commanded coldly, sternly looking at her son who froze under her strict gaze. Madison could tell in his wide blue eyes he held tremendous respect for her, enough to quiet him, despite the danger of the situation.

"Julie," she told the young woman. "Take care of him," she muttered under her breath, enough for the other humans not to hear. Madison reared back, in surprise. Was the young woman also a werewolf? How come she didn't notice? Julie nodded solemnly and held Edik's head close to her breast, protecting his sight for what to come.

Their eyes connected for a moment, gleaming bright yellow for a split second before returning to the blue-green exchange. Julie nodded, raising her head in respect and understand while Tatiana turned around to face the officer.

"_Ms. _Edinburg," he commanded with a glint in his eyes. Madison tightened her fist, sensing a predatory desire within the blue-suited man. Tatiana stiffened, sensing it, too. "Come with me," he ordered without question, waiting for her to step forward so he could follow behind. The woman looked away, shamed and sympathetic for Tatiana, unable to do anything. Tatiana lowered her head, understanding their dilemma, holding nothing against them.

Madison furrowed her eyes, averting them to the direction the pair left in. Certainly, a man of his status –a feeble human –couldn't overpower a superior being like her?

"The next part," Edik began, looking down at Madison, "will be for your eyes solely," he started, nodding towards Tatiana's direction. "I don't need to watch what happens but you will, because you need to understand what _you're _capable of as a female and what could become of because _you are _a female." Sloane flinched but nodded along with his father in solemn agreement. Madison watched the scene around them fade into a camp, as twilight casted an orange glow over the small station as the sun set. She saw the two men wave at her to go forward as they stayed put at the fence line. She gulped and walked forward, feeling a sense of formality with the area despite never setting eyes on it before.

She was compelled to a door and slid through the crack, shivering when the open windows casted a cold wind into the small space. Her eyes were instantly attracted to another door, one which the sound of banging and thumps came from. She felt frozen with both fear and chill, wondering if what she suspected could be happening behind that door was acceptable to see. Surely he father agreed she had to witness the degrading act but for what? She couldn't tell. Slowly she bravely stepped forward and peered inside, weary of turning her eyes to the corner the commotion was coming from.

What greeted her sent her stomach up her throat but she suppressed the vomit and swallowed it bitterly again.

Tatiana was in the process of climbing over the horizontal officer, leaning over him, letting her hair fall from its tight bun so it fell in curls over her shoulders. She was still dressed but her top was slightly undone and her skirt lifted, hiding his pudgy hands. She felt disgusted and she could tell Tatiana was, too, but she disguised it well over a neutral expression.

The officer on the other hand was obviously excited and couldn't help but grab at the flesh of her thighs. She winced in discomfort but quickly distributed her revenge as she leaned forward and pressed her forearm on his throat, surprising him with her strength. He began to turn blue and gasped for air, incoherently muttering awful insults as she applied more pressure. He released his hands from under her skirt to claw at her arms but his nails barley scraped the first layer of her skin.

Her breath became raspy, her nose shriveled in definite disgust, baring her teeth as her canines extended. Madison stumbled back, cringing, not ready to see another transformation of someone else. Yet, Tatiana displayed a stupendous amount of control as she didn't progress any further but enough to terrify the officer. He tried to scream but because she applied so much pressure to his trachea, he was unable to voice anything, but his wide brown eyes told everything.

"You traumatized my son," she began coldly, leaning on top of him, enough so he could smell the rotting flesh from her teeth. "Not only do you kill my husband in front of my child, you have the audacity to separate us, and although he's only six, he knows enough to know what happens to young women alone with men of authority," she growled loudly, extending her claws of her other hand only to slide it down his ear. He shivered.

"I've tried my best to shield my baby boy from the horrors of war, of the blood and torture my family was subjected to for centuries and just as we escaped, you fucking Nazi's how to come it, plunder our land, plunder our women, and destroy innocent homes and children," she yelled. She lifted her arm from his throat only to grab him in a choke hold with her fingers.

"You underestimate us women," she began, grinning. Madison was taken aback by her methodical nature. "You see us as low and stupid and incapable of anything, that you're superior to us," she sneered, "but you're sadly misinformed. You see, despite your 'male superiority' you are nothing but a feeble human at my mercy," and to prove her animalism, her eyes glowed a bright yellow. "Even in _our dynamic _the females are crucial and respected. Something you humans overlook. We birth the children, we take care of them, and we raise them to be strong and survive. If my father or brothers got word of what you just attempted," she laughed bitterly, "well, you'll be thankful I delivered you to death and not by their hand, cause I assure you, I'll be quick and decisive, while they'd be just as awful as you are to your captives, perhaps even worse."

And just as she promised, she grabbed his neck, brought it to her lips, kissed it gentle, softly, also tempting him, until she parted her pink lips, unveiling her sharp canines, sinking them into his flesh like butter, dragging them across his throat in a quick moment, followed by a blood splash. Madison winced as large drops of ruby red spattered across her face. The man fell onto the bed, arms limps and falling off the edges.

Tatiana climbed off of his, fixing her skirt. Madison turned away as she realized the officer's bottoms were pulled down to his knees, along with his underwear, unveiling his masculine body part that stuck straight up. She closed her eyes shut, desperate to erase the memory but she couldn't.

"Madison, isn't it?" Tatiana's voice surprised her. Madison reared around, lowering her eyes to the dusty wood floor, avoiding Tatiana's harsh glare. "It's nice to meet my great granddaughter," she said in Russian. Madison nodded hesitantly.

"You, too," she replied back in Tatiana's native language. They compared themselves. Madison, even with her darker hair, had a subtle paleness to her. There was softness in her despite her sharp, angular eyes.

"You're father coddled you," Tatiana stated, frowning sadly. "You were so sheltered, that's why you can't watch the gore, that's why you can't administer it in your human form, and instead you had to transform to kill, because your subconscious wanted to shield you from it."

Madison didn't deny it, still weary of the spirit. She looked up slightly, meeting Tatiana's cold blue eyes.

"To reach and exceed your expectations, you have to confront and truly experience the reality of our nature," Tatiana explained. "We've lost our humanity a long time, but don't confuse that for morality. We have morals, thus why to protect our family and sometimes turn the other cheek whenever they do something…wrong," she continued, clasping her hands. "You can't be civilized. Something, especially if it's personally. You have to be willing to get dirty," she shot Madison a narrowed glare. "-and I mean it. Getting a little wet is nothing in comparison to what your ancestors accomplished."

Madison glared back at her, pursing her lips. "You're neglecting to tell me something." She accused. Tatiana grinned.

"You're observant. You must get that from your father," she mused, "good, child, very good. Yes, but I was hoping I wouldn't have to explain it to you verbally, assuming you'd see it for yourself and get the hint." She sighed. "We females have certain advantages over men, as you've come to realize, gifted with physical appeal," she waved to their bodies. "Our beauty –naturally obtained –not only draws in men but can overpower them, as they are blind to only the surface and their own illusions of power and strength but neglect to acknowledge how vulnerable they are to their weakness."

Madison got the direction she was leaning to. "You're saying sex is the best way to manipulate men," Madison concluded out loud with a scowl. She raised her head, thinking about it. "No offense, Tatiana…"

"Grandma, please," Tatiana corrected her.

Madison snuffed. "_Grandma," _she emphasized. "Times have been changing and as much as I am aware this," she motioned to her own body, "can get me places, I'd rather use my head."

"I know what tactics you favor," Tatiana cut her off with a dry look, not impressed. "I blame that on the absence of your mother and being raised by fags."

"Hey!" Madison burst out, growling. Tatiana backed out, lifting her palms up in surrender.

"You were neglected to be taught how you can use your sexual nature to your advantage," Tatiana explained. "You believed your primal nature and how it brought upon fear would work well and it does, but so does sexuality and you won't believe how easily men were deceived when they see a beautiful woman in front of them," she laughed bitterly. "That's how your tramp of a mother hooked in your father, at a bar of all places."

"HEY!" Madison exploded again. "Stop insulting my family like that," she threatened, growling.

Derek lurched back as Madison's silent figure began to shake and shiver but not from the cold but with a deep intense hatred he recognized. He could feel it. She bared her teeth in her sleep, letting out a bellowing growl. Her hands clumped into tight fists, just as she did in her vision, extending her claws, digging into her own flesh but did not register the pain. Derek was taken aback by her mysterious animosity, staring wide eyed at her comatose body.

"Maybe a nightmare," he thought. "Maybe she's reliving the moment she was pushed, maybe she's dreaming of the person who pushed her."

_The Next Morning:_

Derek wasn't expecting much as he slipped into the room again, coffee in hand, taking his seat by her side. She was still and silent, breathing softly. He hoped for at least another growl but she seemed to recede back to her ghostly image. Her skin seemed paler if possible. He tenderly touched her hand and flinched, shocked by the coldness of her skin.

He gulped, staring hopelessly as her figure. She was slipping away.

"How is she doing?" Trevor asked outside the doorway, sipping hesitantly on his own coffee, a steaming cup of some caramel blend, Derek could tell by the scent. His partner was somewhere else in the hospital, probably waiting for his companion. Derek knew he had to be polite, seeing as these men were the fathers of Madison but he just wanted to be left alone with her. It was an intimate moment they rarely spent together and he didn't want that time tainted.

Suddenly, her eye lids began to flutter, until her eyelashes lifted, revealing the brightest of eyes.

Her eyes were bright and blue, taking in the whole room with weary wide eyes. After a moment, her heart quickened, as her emotions caught up with her pulse. She gasped loudly, alerting Derek who jolted up. He was paralyzed for a second, overwhelmed with disbelief and shock as he took in her bright face –no longer flushed by now flowing with tremendous amount of blood –flooding her cheeks to make a vivid display of blush. She looked down at her hand, feeling it caged, and narrowed her eyes in confusion, trying to figure out who the large hand belong to. She looked up at Derek after trailing his arm with her eyes, slow and deliberate, making him anxious.

He watched helplessly, soundlessly, the silence almost suffocating at her eyes connected with his in a deep, piercing stare. She titled her head for a moment, furrowing her eyebrows, something flashing in her eyes but he couldn't identify what because as soon as it happened, it passed over, glazed over with a new emotion –an obvious one.

"Who are you?" She demanded. Her voice sounded the same, strong, undeterred. She pulled her hand away from Derek's violently and because of his shock, he was too weak and distracted to realize it and couldn't retrieve it back.

"I'm Derek," he replied weakly, breathlessly. He felt his heart drop into his stomach as he collapsed back into his chair with defeated eyes. She raised her head and pushed back off the cot to sit straight up, adjusting herself into a dignified position.

"Do I know you?" If her first three words didn't knock the wind out of his lung the first time, her next four ones surely did the job. He stuttered out an incoherent response, unsure how to respond to the situation. He was at an utter loss. How should he respond? I'm a friend? No, that's too simple but maybe that's what she needs right now. It would be a good filler answer, wouldn't it? He gulped. How would he explain how they met- maybe she didn't remember the past few months or maybe just the weeks? She didn't remember him, obviously, but would he have to lie for the time being? He had so many questions but he doubted even she knew the answer.

"We're friends," he settled with. She noticed the hurt in his voice. Her straightened lips curved downwards into a prominent frown but she kept her hand at bay, unable to physically reach out to him.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I just can't…remember you." She shrugged her shoulders. Derek was taken aback by her calmness. Well it was in her personality to be calm, while he suspected she was a fiery mess inside, in complete turmoil. Even in her condition, she held true to her natural urge to hide things.

"What's the last thing you remember?" He inquired intently, leaning forward and crossing his hands on his lap as he stared at her.

She shied away and moved her eyes to the glass window of the door as she tried to think back. Her lips pursed. He knew it was a clear sign of frustration. She did all the time when something when array with a plan. She finally shook her head in despair and let her head fall into her hands, hiding her face. Her hair fell over her shoulders and covered her face like a curtain, hiding what he assumed was blush on her cheeks.

"I can't…I don't know…a game…a lacrosse game…something eleven, a jersey perhaps…Tabitha… Uh, her Mustang…wait she doesn't drive a Mustang…it must be Tom's. She must've borrowed Tom's car."

So she remembered her Beta, Derek mused, as well as this Tom guy, he thought, disgruntled at the stranger. That's good. It gave him a good timeline to start with at least.

"Do you know who you are?" He interrogated.

She looked around wearily, eyeing the glass and a pair of doctors walking past before redirecting her intense stare at Derek. "Aubrey Lundgren," she whispered. "My name is Aubrey."

Derek furrowed his brows. "It's Madison," he argued. "You're…"

She cut him off. "Not anymore," she replied harshly. The quickness of her response surprised him, almost as if she had whipped him. "How did you know that?" She demanded, narrowing her eyes. Derek could see them burn into a dim red, ready to engulf her blackened pupils with a red fiery rage. He leaned back but that didn't stop her from reaching forward and grabbing his jacket collar, exposing her nails, scraping them across the flesh of his neck. He shivered.

"I…I…you told me," he lied, because in all honestly, she never really did tell him her name. He had to find out through Stiles… Stiles had told him! He'd stick to that, because he knew the lie that had slipped between his teeth did not get passed her. In fact, he assumed it hit her –as her face contorted from shock to fury in .03 seconds.

"You're lying, you son-of-a-bitch," she cursed, pulling him closer. "Tell me the truth. Who the hell told you my name?"

"Stiles," he cried out, "Stiles told me." He grabbed at her hands and pried her off, immediately jumping back to a safe distance as he leaned against the wall. She must've let him go willingly because he doubted he could've escaped from her steel grip –her reputation served that no one could.

"Stiles…" she mused with slit eyes. "The name seems familiar. Tell me," she demanded, glaring at him. "Does he have short hair and light brown eyes? He's kind of lanky, skinny, pale…like Slender Man? Is he a smartass, too, with something snarky or sarcastic always spewing from his lips?"

Derek nodded. "You're spot on," he agreed.

"Why would Stiles know my name?" She continued to persist. "I don't go to school as "_Madison" _and I haven't in a long time. He should only know me by Aubrey Lundgren."

"You seriously don't remember anything, do you?"

"Does it look like I joke around?" Even in her new 'condition,' Madison still contained that calm, cool, collected expression –no, slash that, it was just plain cold, icy cold –like her eyes. She still looked the same and it was disappointing for Derek. "You know what, get out, go, _now," _she replied fiercely. Derek was taken aback by her animosity. He's been subjected to it before but for some reason, now, it stunned him as if a Black Mamba had struck him.

"What, why," he stuttered, stepping forward. She flicked her wrist and pointed her finger at the door, snapping at him furiously. As if to emphasize her point, she nodded her head also at the door. Her blond hair fell from her back over her shoulder, waving slightly.

"I said _GO!" _She screamed, startling him. "Get me Tabi immediately."

This was a new side to her he had never seen before. She had broken her cool, calm mold. And to be honest, he thought to himself as he pushed opened the door, it frightened him. But, he realized, she was vulnerable. This could be his chance, he thought optimistically, but he kept a grin contained.

Scott rose in his seat, asking Derek about Madison –hearing her shout.

"I don't know Scott, she doesn't remember me," Derek snarled. He turned to face Scott, seeing the surprise light up the boy's face. "I don't think she'll remember you either. She doesn't remember anything of the past few months. Call Tabitha. She wants her."

"I'm going to talk to her first," Scott persisted, moving towards the room. Derek spun around with blazing red eyes.

"Not unless you want to enter the dragon's den," Derek snarled. "Stand back Scott and wait for Tabitha. She's the only one that can clear something up."

Scott seemed to obey and pulled out his phone to call up Stiles –who most likely was with Tabitha. It was a short conversation –if you can call you his voicemail a conversation. Scott left an abrupt message and called Lydia instead seeing there was a better chance Stiles would answer Lydia than Scott –although Lydia's attitude to Tabitha that night also turned him off. His last resort would have to be Derek going to Tabitha himself –he gulped thinking about it. Tabitha wasn't as welcoming for Derek than anyone else –she wasn't afraid of laying him on his back and putting in a few extra kicks and punches (just to express her "agitation.")


	6. Amnesic Revelations

"Don't move," Tabitha insisted, sitting down on the bed. Madison leaned against the headboard with her phone in her hand, fiddling with it. Tabitha noticed but didn't say anything, knowing it was just her nerves. "You need to rest. If you need anything, yell." She winked and pulled the covers over Madison's torso, leaning over to give her a reassuring hug. "I know I said this a million times, but I'm _really glad _you're back and safe. You got a bad concussion so don't try to strain yourself."

"Thanks Tabs," Madison said sincerely back, holding her hand tightly within her own. "I really appreciate it."

"And," Tabitha added seriously, contradicting Madison's softer tone, "when you're better, we're going to work on some _stuff. _What happened could've been prevented if you didn't rely on stealth attacks. It's time I taught you what my dad taught me."

"No offense," Madison objected, "but I don't like guns. I never have."

"I know," Tabitha replied, nodding slowly. She knew Madison held a grudge against the Argent's for her parents' murder but also, she acquired a fear –a small phobia –but a phobia nonetheless of guns or any arsenal weaponry because of that day, even if her parents died at the end of an arrow, it didn't matter, guns, arrows, all required minimal contact, cutting personal contact from the equation. It was an unfair advantage Madison hated and feared. "I'm not talking about guns. I'm talking about offensive fighting, instead of sneaking up behind the enemy, confronting them and being able to disable them. You wouldn't be thrown off the bannister if you could've thrown whoever did it to you off."

Tabitha knew if she was in Madison's shoes, she would've been the one to throw off the bastard instead of the other way around.

"I thought we've been working on that with Allison these last couple of months," Madison wondered.

"We have but you have a routine –there is predictability in your style, ironically. You tend to make the attacker throw the first move, so you revert back to defense. You have yet to prove to me –although I know you are capable of confronting and disabling an opponent."

"What do you mean?" Madison challenged. She knew on many occasions she was able to take down plenty of opponents, with swift stealth and success. She glared at Tabitha. "You don't make any sense."

Tabitha sighed. "You depend too much on the element of surprise. What happens when you're caught in a situation where the enemy is aware of your presence? What if you have to make the first move –face-to-face?" Tabitha frowned when she caught Madison's expression slip from confusion to realization. "What if they have a gun or crossbow? How are you going to disable them? You need to learn how to effectively engage in hand-to-hand combat. It's a necessary skill. Look, don't fret about it now. Rest, okay? You're safe now so you don't need to worry about being in danger. You've got me outside your door. No one is going to get past me. You know that." She paused. "Another thing, I know Derek and Scott are going to want to see you. Do you want me to let them in?" Tabitha knew she shouldn't being seeing anyone unfamiliar. Mentally, Madison was vulnerable and weak.

Anything could set her off. As if she could read her mind, Madison shook her head. "I don't think I have the answers for them." She remembered Derek's interrogation. "It'll just give me a headache."

Tabitha gave her a meek smile and nodded, patting her comforter-covered knee and pushed herself off the bed. "Tabi," Madison suddenly said, alerting her. "Thank you," she sincerely said, smiling. "Thank you for doing all of this." She took a soft intake of air. "I don't know how to express in words…how nice it is…you being here and just being…so patient. I really appreciate it." Madison undermined the importance of the loyalty of her friend and how important it would be to have her in her life. She was literally her crutch. Tabitha was deeply touched by the emotional side of Madison and nodded, not sure how to reply. She wasn't necessarily experience with deep, emotional conversations, not with her distant mother, militant father, and blunt, brutal brothers.

Tabitha slipped out the room, leaving Madison alone with her thoughts. Madison leaned back, worn out and exhausted. Her head ached and she felt weaker than ever, restrained to her own bed, unable to recover at the rate she wanted to.

Tabitha was right, she admitted to herself. She had the strength and the advantage but because she was unable to utilize that skill and couldn't effectively throw off her attacker. She relied too much on attacking on the back. She was an amateur when it came to face-to-face combat, unlike Tabitha who specialized in that tactic because of her military background.

That's what made them a good team. When Madison lacked, Tabitha made up for. That was something she wasn't too proud to admit.

Tabitha was met with a disappointing sight as she descended down the stairs, immediately growing a scowl on her face. "Stiles," she said, moving her eyes slightly to the left, with a quick but genuine smile. Then she switched a few degrees to his black haired, green eyed friend. "Mutt," she hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you really stupid enough to ask?" Derek sneered back. Stiles slapped his chest with the back of his hand.

"No," she dismissed, approaching them. "If anyone's stupid, it'd you be, for ignoring my subtle hints," she aimed at Derek, baring her teeth. "Madison is sleeping and she needs her rest. Sorry Stiles but you have to go, too. I'll call you later on updates."

Stiles had been around her enough to know she was serious and urged Derek to leave but the stubborn Alpha assumed he had some sort of advantage of Madison's Beta –stepping forward to intimidate her. Tabitha was unfazed and growled warningly.

"We have to see her," Derek insisted, growling.

"For what," Tabitha exclaimed, tossing her hands up. "You think after a few hours after being discharged, she's suddenly going to remember everything? For God's sake, Derek, at least give her a day before you demand the impossible! Plus, she said it herself. She didn't want to see you."

That stunned Derek and he stepped back, surprised. "You're lying," he accused. Tabitha was sly, though. She mixed the meaning and reasoning of Madison's words, but nonetheless Madison didn't want to see Derek and Tabitha was sticking true to that.

"Nope," she shrugged.

"Derek, she is in mama-bear mode," Stiles persisted, glaring at Derek and switching his eyes to his girlfriend, almost immediately softening his honey brown eyes. "Let's go. She kicked your ass last time and she can do it again."

"He's right," Tabitha sung, grinning. "Now shoo." Derek wasn't so easily deterred and got in her face, only to look up past her towards the stairs. "Don't get any ideas," she sneered, pushing him back. He stumbled back but caught his step, able to balance himself. Suddenly he charged, assuming with enough velocity he could shove her on her back if she didn't step aside.

She prepared a fist and waited for him, shoving it into his groin as he tried to maneuver around her. Not the most orthodox move but satisfying to her as he bounced back onto the reflective floor, clutching his groin and gasping for air. Stiles winced at the scene, sympathizing for the Alpha as he curled up into a fetal position at Tabitha's feet. He whimpered, making Tabitha smirk and snickered.

"So stupid," she laughed. "You literally _ran_ into that. Do you see what happens when you act rashly? Oh God, just go," she whined, kicking him away with her bare clad foot. He cringed, as did Stiles who pulled him up to his feet. "I'll see you later Stiles."

Just as she turned her back, Scott burst in, demanded the same thing Derek had only moments ago. Tabitha sighed. "Madison is trying is sleep, guys. She doesn't need this racket."

"Is she okay?" Scott demanded.

"Trust me," Tabitha replied sternly, looking over her shoulder towards Scott's sweaty form. He heaved heavily. "She's _fine. _A little dizzy, a little hungry, but she's safe and sound. If anyone dares to pass me and see her without my permission, to bother her in the slightest, will face dire consequences. That includes you Stiles. She's my priority as my Alpha and closest friend. She will be put above everything and anyone else. As I just displayed with Derek, I can and will take you down.

"Okay," Scott's voice faded, as he took in Derek's miserably form clinging onto Stiles' shoulder. "What happened to you?" He asked the Alpha.

Derek whimpered. "She punched me." He meekly whined. His voice raised two octaves, humoring Stiles but the younger boy stifled his laughter.

"Does she hit that hard?" Scott had dared to ask. He vaguely remembered the night Derek had attempted to ambush her but was rewarded with a dislocated shoulder and bruised torso.

"Yeah," Stiles chuckled, "and second, it was in the groin."

Scott cringed and rushed to Derek's freed side, lifting him up with another set of shoulders.

"Today isn't your lucky day, isn't it Derek?" Stiles chastised. "I told you not to piss her off but what do you do? Mr. Macho man thinks he can slip past the daughter of a Marine."

"_General_," Tabitha yelled from the bannister, still hearing their voices as Scott opened the front door.

_Hours later…_

Derek would not be deterred. Not by Tabitha, not by her obnoxious barking Lab that was desperately trying to climb the tall privacy fence but with no avail, limited to only barking and snarling behind the wood to scare him off –which Clover also failed at. He flattened himself against the wall to avoid the possible wondering eyes of Tabitha who most likely was acutely aware of something outside. She had even made a couple of attempts of poking her head outside the glass door, calling Clover inside like a worried mother –probably scared her dog would run into trouble. Clover was disobedient at first but then trotted to his owner's protective presence. Derek realized that Tabitha probably posed more of a risk to people than her stupid dog. Well, that made sense, ironic but true.

Derek quickly leapt onto the flat cover of the porch. He looked up to still see Madison's window was still a few feet above him. He extended his arms to the ledge, wrapping his fingers around the wood, feeling the latch. He tried to push it open but the window wouldn't budge.

"Damn," he cursed, pushing it open again. He suddenly felt it lift with ease. He looked up with a sense of amazement and bewilderment but his enlightened expression fell as soon as his dark eyes registered the pale face of Madison looming over him curiously. "Mad-Maddy, hey," he stuttered, receding his hands from her range, weary of her nails clinging onto the edge of the window. "I can explain."

Her face was blank. "Good," she said neutrally, "because I have _nothing _to explain to you." With that, she slammed the window shut, locking it and immediately turning off the light, blackening the room. Derek gaped, taken aback by her hostility.

_Across town_

Harrison Schmidt was cleaning his store during the final hours, as the blue twilight of the sky alerted him of the darkening night. He finished sweeping the faded floor and set the broom up against the wall, starting to locking up the cashier and money box, as well as shutting down his ancient Dell computer. His light eyes averted to the shelf behind him where a large, authentic journal lay protected in a box. He lifted up the journal, opening to the mid-section, tracing the beautiful cursive with his finger, careful not the smear to faded graying ink.

"_Miss Valentina," _he mused, reading the handwritten entry to himself, letting his eyes fall over the words in admiration.

_1420_

"Mistress," a servant called for, waiting obediently at the foot of the stairs. The woman he called for was descending slowly down the narrow way, careful with her footing although barefoot. Her feet were hidden by the large heavy skirt of her dress, as she lifted it so it wouldn't be caught under her footing. The velvet was soft and smooth in her palm, clasping it tightly in her grasp. "Mistress, your companion will be here soon. You look lovely as usual, Mistress. May I guide you to your carriage?"

"That won't be necessary," she bid him with a gentle smile. He turned red, averting his eyes from her beauty, knowing such a respectable and sentimental relationship they shared we're forbidden. "Thank you, and what have I told you about this 'Mistress" foolishness? We are far more familiar with each other than just _that." _She critiqued, taking hold of his pale hand. "My God Peter, you're warm. Do you not feel well today?"

"I feel well, Mistress-Valentine," he corrected himself under her hot glare. Her eyes were much different that his masters. Despite the darkness of her deep hazel eyes, she possessed warmth about her, a gentle and compassionate side that she bestowed to the lengths of him. "We must get going, Val, or else we'll miss your friend," he urged, tugging her hand gently, just as they had as kids. She smiled and interconnected her arm with it, extending her other hand to take hold of his hand tenderly, clasping it in his without any regard to her heavy skirt that dragged across the ragged stone floor. "And shouldn't you be wearing shoes to protect your petite feet?" She laughed, and slowly, he began, too.

"I rarely do," she retorted with a raised brow. They smirked at their inside joke. "I will do as I please and no one shall stop me, not my father or my bestowed or _lowly servant_," she taunted, sticking her tongue. He feigned injury and clutched his breast, gasping.

"I feel like my face has just been struck," he cried out obnoxiously, earning him a hard blow to his chest as well as Valentine's light laughter. He smiled and instinctively walked closer to her, his dark, almost blackened hair touching her light brown strands that fell loose from her long braid. "I miss these days," he reminisced as they passed the large entry way and into the gleaming light.

"I do, too, Peter," she sighed, leaning her head on his broad shoulder. "I miss the simple days, where I could where pants," she grinned, "instead of these frivolous things," she snarled, scrunching her nose in disgust as she lifted her skirt, letting it drop from her hand not a minute later.

"Ah," he sighed, "indeed, but to be honest, my lady, you do look enchanting. You are of royalty and rank and you must play the part," he bowed his head, dismayed. Disappointment lined his lighter blue eyes, casting a sad glance at his singled shadow. Valentina realized this and casted her own gloomy glance at her own shadow behind her.

"Even before I was bestowed to Roderick," she mused, "I was still of high standing, and father did not require me to wear such abominations," she sneered. She tightened her grip onto Peter's arm. "He was never disturbed by our close bond."

"You forget, little one," he said, kissing her temple on last time before entering into the general public, passed by a couple of spooked horses. "He is one of us and we are one of him. _Our _life is much different than the one _here," _he regarded the busy street of Italia with a single hand swipe. "We understand the rules of the pack but here, class dominates everything and although we were raised together, we are not allowed to equal each other, at least not here. You are a Lady, fair Valentine, born of nobility and rank, both as the daughter of a wealthy man and of an Alpha, but he is gone, unfortunately, and your security is best in the hands of the wealthiest banker in Florence, Master Roderick."

She raised her head in contempt. "It is ridiculous I am resigned to live a life of servitude to an egotistical _boy," _she sneered. "I will be degraded to nothing but a trophy, a mother and nothing more. It doesn't help to know he considers street whores over me."

"Perhaps it is because you have class and _he _is cheap after all," Peter snidely commented, angry at his beloved's treatment. Valentina laughed loudly, closing her eyes and throwing her head back at the remark.

"Oh Peter, I forgot what a sense of humor you have," she boasted, grabbing her waist.

"If I were your bestowed, trust me, not a day, not an hour, would pass without me visiting you in our quarters to ravish you," he whispered into her ear. He distanced his lips from her temple as they continued to walk through the public. "But that is inappropriate for me to say, now," he chatted, grinning as he took in her equally mischievous face. "A servant such as I should never fantasize about even daring to touch a woman of your status."

"I wouldn't mind," she honestly said, "I trust your hands much more than Roderick's." She gazed at his hand in her own, admiring the humble strength his experienced laboring fingers possessed. They were capable of lifting hauls of wood and yet, also capable of tending to wounds of children. He was as much of a miracle with medicine as he was with heavy burdens. That's why he was her most trusted adviser –not just a "servant" as Florence had deemed him. He was handsome, intelligent, and wise, as well as compassionate and cunning. "Status" didn't matter.

"If I catch him with another whore, I might just kill the bastard," he seethed quietly, tightening his grip on her hand suddenly. She smiled at his protective nature. "A woman of your worth should not be degraded and humiliated for something as worthless as a loose woman."

"My, my, Peter, watch your temper," she tempted, gathering closer to him. They received a varying spectrum of looks but they minded none of them, off in their own world. "We do not want to cause a scene, that'd be too many corpses to clean up," she chipped in, smirking, "although I am getting kind of antsy. I hate being confined in this city. I want to go back home, in the woods, to roam free, to hunt, not to travel to market and fetch a leg or head from the butcher. It ruins all the fun," she whined, sighing heavily.

"In time, dear," he said. "Right now, you are safe within the open, far from the enemy."

"I can handle myself," she assured, "I can most certainly uphold my own. I am a Volkov!" She raised her head proudly. He chuckled at her nativity.

"Ah, yes, but still a girl," he chided. She grunted.

"Of maturity," she reminded him, protruding her chest as a peacock would its feathers. He nodded approvingly.

"Of course," he agreed.

"Oh and Peter," she added, "I wouldn't mind you assassinating the son-of-a-bitch for me. I planned to do it myself during our wedding night but the sooner, the more convenient."

"You must not think such vile thoughts," he chastised.

"But I will," she defended, narrowing her eyes. "I will not tolerate being deduced to marry the lengths of a mortal such as Roderick. He does not belong with the ranks of us."

"The irony," he noted sarcastically, casting down a shameful glance at his tattered clothing.

Harrison abruptly stopped, looking towards the sidewalk where a woman was dragged behind her two large Malamutes. He returned to his reading, skipping ahead.

"May I join you," the Lady Catalina inquired, stepping alongside Peter. He stiffened, unsure of him, narrowing his eyes at the Spaniard beauty. Her hair was significantly darker than Mistress Valentine's, but her eyes were strongly lighter, almost golden naturally despite her Lycan heritage, or as her kind were referred to down in her home county, "el lobo." Her curls were untamed but kept behind a crown over her red veil. Still, some thick black locks protruded and escaped the modest headdress. Her dress was simple despite her heritage –the one of many daughters of the Spaniard General. A green corset around her waist secured her thin waist while her skirt fell loosely, freely over her hips, reminding him of a gypsy. A rich cape adorned her shoulders as she graced the streets with her light footing, almost dancing on hair.

"If you please," he allowed, adjusting his shirt. She smirked.

"Thank you, kind sir," she mocked, bowing at his feet before rising and advancing ahead. He rolled his eyes. She was significantly younger than his young Lady Valentina –if it was possible, but perhaps, it seemed that way before she acted like a child to say the least, without a single care of consequences. She was smaller, too, and almost delicately looking, to a stranger's blessed eye, not knowing her witty and snarky personality Peter had become acquainted with earlier when he had the misfortunate of welcoming the strange, exotic woman. "So, I've seen things…"

"I'm not surprised," he bluntly said, glaring at her. "Where are you getting at?"

"I don't see why you can't have Valentina now. It's obvious she'd be willing. She prefers you over her rancid fiancé of her. Kill him, it's easier than waiting around for old age," she advised.

"I'm sorry but I'm now going to follow the advice of an infant," he chided, rolling his eyes as they descended down the steep hill.

She bitterly laughed. "I lost my innocence a long time ago, Peter Trotsky. If you haven't notice, I'm married, to a wonderful but strange fellow. We have yet to bare children but believe me we're trying."

"I did not need to know that," he disregard, sneering. "How can you be regarded as a woman of class when it is obvious you bare none?"

Harrison was interrupted by the dinging of his front door bell, alarmed both by his late visitors and his forgetfulness to lock it. He lifted his head from the journal to the young woman entering, taken aback by her resemblance. Her hair was tied back in a long pony, banes posted back, unveiling a dark, toffee colored face. Her eyes contrasted dramatically against her face, reminding him of the ivy lining the older building from the roof. Her lips were pale and pink but full, smiling as she greeted the man loudly.

"Hi," she said, walking in. "I'm sorry for walking in," she motioned to the door with her hand. "I know you plan to close," she rambled nervously. "I came here for a personal visit. My friend, _Aubrey_, sent me over to pick a personal delivery. Uh," she scrambled with her pockets, searching for something, until she pulled out a small slip of wrinkled paper. She glanced at it quickly before lifting her head up to face Harrison. "Uh, it's something called…ah, shit, I can't pronounce this," she cursed to herself, blushing deeply and covering her mouth right after, turning red and apologizing to the older man, "sorry, sorry, really sorry about that..." she relinquished the paper to him. He narrowed his eyes at the paper, reading the native Russian Madison inscribed in dark blue ink. The end of it was smeared but was still legible. He reached for his prescription glasses hanging from his neck and placed them on the bridge of his narrowed nose. "Ah," he said, followed by the Russian words, prompting Tabitha to tilt her head in confusion.

"What?" She muttered.

_Across Town_

Allison was literally shaking as she approached the intimidating French Estate. She had driven past the gates, experiencing the first time of being "called in," not used to having to push a buzzer and hear a man's voice on the other side, demanding her "intentions." Her voice was barely coherent, stolen by the shock and the cold air, but she managed to mumble the words along the lines "Aubrey called me over," and shook in anticipation for his answer, but received none other than the opening of the gates.

It was a cold reception.

She closed the door behind her and maneuvered around her car, buttoning up her upper buttons of her coat as the wind grew a sudden strength and all but blew her back. Her hair was blown around and momentarily blinded her as she approached the stone steps. She stopped abruptly right before the door, hesitant to knock but found it wasn't necessary when it was pried open, revealing Madison herself in a golden glory. Allison was taken aback by the brightness of her apparel, not used to the yellow adorning her torso but found it only worked with her dark hair that she hadn't even imagined her with.

"Uh," Allison stumbled over words before setting a strict smile on her face. "I like your hair."

"Thank you," Madison replied promptly with colder, darker eyes Allison also hadn't picture. Surely, with darker hair, Madison's eyes should lighter, although Allison couldn't even imagine Madison's eye being possibly icier than they had before? Perhaps with was because of the previous events, when Madison had relinquished her grief and anger, perhaps she was starting to return to…normal? Still…Allison couldn't get over the new image Madison presented, proudly, she might add, as Madison stood straight and almost –nope, correction –_very _intimidating. "While you're there gawking," Madison interrupted, tilting her head while stepping aside, "why don't you step in, since it'd be rude of me to leave _a guest_ out in the cold," she coldly said, allowing a reddened Allison inside.

* * *

Hey guys! It's been a long time, I know, but over short spurts of free time I've been dedicated with updating this chapter and finally after a while, it's complete -the chapter I mean -by no means is this sequel even remotely finished. ;)

It's a long chapter so I divided it into two parts, that way it's not such a long haul. Again, I was sucked into a Madison-Allison frenemy-ship (which is prominent in the second part :P) so that'll be interesting to see, especially since there will eb a lot of speculation.

Also, me and a fellow author -LycanLover411 -have conjured up a huge surprise but it won't be unveiled until a while. I told you this one was going to be suspensful. A lot of "OMG's" and "Did NOT see that coming" as well as "Well, who is it? Tell me woman! NOW!" It's a lot of fun writing these. I also look forward to reviews, comments, fan messaging. It's really a great way to start and end the day.

Much love, and appreciation, Cassidy.


	7. Allison's Accuations

Previously on Part 1...

_She closed the door behind her and maneuvered around her car, buttoning up her upper buttons of her coat as the wind grew a sudden strength and all but blew her back. Her hair was blown around and momentarily blinded her as she approached the stone steps. She stopped abruptly right before the door, hesitant to knock but found it wasn't necessary when it was pried open, revealing Madison herself in a golden glory. Allison was taken aback by the brightness of her apparel, not used to the yellow adorning her torso but found it only worked with her dark hair that she hadn't even imagined her with._

_"Uh," Allison stumbled over words before setting a strict smile on her face. "I like your hair."_

_"Thank you," Madison replied promptly with colder, darker eyes Allison also hadn't picture. Surely, with darker hair, Madison's eyes should lighter, although Allison couldn't even imagine Madison's eye being possibly icier than they had before? Perhaps with was because of the previous events, when Madison had relinquished her grief and anger, perhaps she was starting to return to…normal? Still…Allison couldn't get over the new image Madison presented, proudly, she might add, as Madison stood straight and almost –nope, correction –very intimidating. "While you're there gawking," Madison interrupted, tilting her head while stepping aside, "why don't you step in, since it'd be rude of me to leave a guest out in the cold," she coldly said, allowing a reddened Allison inside._

* * *

"So you're all right," Allison announced, fumbling over her speech while under Madison's intense gaze.

"Yes I am," Madison bluntly replied. "And to be honest, you better come straight out and say something, because both you and that mutt Derek visited for more than just assurance of my physical health. I won't guarantee I can or will answer it but since you came all the way here, might as well sling it."

"Uh," Allison stuttered. "I guess it can wait…" she prolonged, avoiding Madison's intense stare.

"Really, you came here at nine o'clock at night for something that 'can wait.' My God Allison, grow a pair," Madison berated before turning her back towards her, returning back into the kitchen to finish her snack –a warm, fudged decadent dark chocolate brownie –gourmet made, of course, by the looks of the presentation. Madison dipped with a fork at one of the corner, quickly placing the warm desert into her mouth where it immediately melted on her tongue.

Allison intruded into her peaceful French space, eyeing the white, vintage wooding and glimmering marble countertops. It was definitely different from her kitchen, having a unique persona of history and hospitality, almost as if it was alive, and the various brightly colored floral decorations added to that sense. Allison –despite Madison's cold shoulder –felt welcomed as she stepped into the brightly lit room.

"What are you still doing here?" Madison demanded, holding her fork in a fist. Allison kept her distance but held a brave face as she stared at Madison directly, trembling under Madison's cold, unwavering stare. She immediately thought of her father's advice to never stare a dog in the eyes, but then again, to compare Madison to a dog, that'd be stupid of her. Sure, Madison could be a bitch but to announce it, well…that was suicide, to here at least. Allison had to tread lightly.

"Do you remember who pushed you off the bannister?" Allison blurted. Madison snarled loudly, eyes shifting from the darkest of blues to the brightest of reds before she recomposed her face into a human expression, reverting back to her cool, celestial eyes. Allison swallowed a bitter lump in her throat, petrified of the short-lived terror, standing in complete stillness. Madison observed her frantic heart pitter and patter, comparing it to her face. "Nice poker face," Madison chided before returning to her desert, forking another bite from the warm chocolate. "And no, I don't remember anything. I can't recall a single event from the past month and a half."

"Is there a chance you'll ever recover it?" Allison asked again.

Madison groaned in irritation. "The doctor's aren't sure. It's inconclusive. Why are you so curious anyways? Did you do something you don't want me knowing? Is that why you're glad I fell and hit my head? Actually, could it be possible, _you _were the one to throw me over the railing?" She accused but Allison missed the mild, underlining playful tone Madison slyly slipped out.

"No!" Allison objected. "I didn't do anything! I didn't push you off the banner! I couldn't! I just mean…why, how could you not be interested in someone who tried to kill you?"

"Well," Madison answered, "if he _or she _was too much of a coward to finish the job when I was the most vulnerable at the hospital, the chances of them coming after me now is very slim, so I don't have to worry about it. They're long gone."

"Don't you want answers or revenge? I'd be pretty upset if someone tried to kill me and got away with it!"

"That's you," Madison retorted, "not me, at least, not anymore. Why bother scraping up old wounds? I'm not going to look for trouble. Until they resurface –which I highly doubt –I'm not going to start up another war, especially in my condition now."

Allison was immediately skeptical. This was not the Madison she knew –not that she knew her very much anyways –but she experienced Madison's wrath enough to know those words were all bullshit. Allison acted on her emotions and spoke out angrily.

"That's bullshit and you know it," Allison accused. Madison was taken aback by her break of persona, alarmed by Allison's stunning anger. Slightly entertained by her tantrum, Madison set her head in her palms, suppressing a grin as she observed Allison's wild hand gestures and accusing fingers. "You'd go after _me _for something my family had done, just to hurt him because you're a cunning, manipulative bitch," Madison was a little alarmed by vulgarity –especially since it was directed at herself, something she had never imagined Allison doing –not after what she had inflicted onto Allison for the past months. "Like hell I'd believe you skip on the chance to hunt down and kill the person who tried to kill you personally."

"Nice theory," Madison pointed out, raising her index finger, "only, have you considered, I don't care for my own safety? Perhaps I don't care for myself in comparison to my family's well-being. I'd gladly dismember and kill those who trespass and harm my family, but perhaps, I don't particular care for those who try to hurt me, because no matter if it's physical or mental, my pride is impenetrable," she added with a condescending grin, "but nice work. You should keep working on those, just in case."

"Oh really," Allison objected, sneering down at the girl. "What about Matt? He didn't hurt your family but you killed him in most brutal way possible! Why did you do that?" She accused.

Madison's eyes tightened but faded away, turning her gaze to the counter as she dug deep into her mind. "I don't remember it," she honestly replied. "I don't remember a Matt, or killing him."

Allison glared at her at first, still skeptical but the ingenuity in her lost blue eyes proved to Allison she was telling the truth, but the moment of empathy was lost as she felt the back of her neck, feeling the faint scars of Madison's claws. She remembered vaguely Madison's "explanation," if it could even be considered one.

_Three weeks ago_

_Allison pushed herself off the soft ground, wiping remnants of mud onto her black pants, smearing an odd brown stain on her thigh. She didn't notice as she re-approached Madison with determined eyes. Madison's were opposite, almost humored at the idea of Allison attacking her. _

_Suddenly Allison rushed forward, hoping to grab Madison's collar and was suddenly enthralled as she felt the thin fabric in her grasp. The excitement was quickly pushed out of her system as pain jolted through her torso. She looked down briefly as her stomach, seeing Madison's fist embed itself into her abdomen's muscle. Allison collapsed to her knees, gasping for air as the force of Madison's strength sent Allison into a paralyzing state of shock. _

_After a coughing fit, Allison gazed up at Madison who crouched at her side. "You enjoy this, don't you?" She accused. Madison shook her head. _

_"You make this too easy, too predictable," Madison explained, extending a hand to help Allison up. Allison stumbled onto her feet but clung to Madison's shoulders as a make-shift crutch. "You need to stop attacking without a plan. What were you going to do after you grabbed hold of my collar? Throw me down? Attempt to strangle me?" _

_"Why is it that everything I do, you're better than me?" Allison whined. She was tired of Madison's condescending remarks. Nothing was ever good enough in her eyes. _

_"Practice, motive, physical advantage," Madison offered lightly, "but most importantly of all, I plan mentally, not just one scenario but two or three incase the first one goes awry." _

_"What was your plan when you attacked me at the Police Station," Allison wondered. _

_"That was purely spontaneous. You attacked my Beta. Because your narrow sight, you didn't see me, allowing me to disable you." _

_"YOU SUNK YOUR CLAWS INTO MY NECK!" Allison seethed loudly, glaring at Madison. "You gave me nightmares for weeks, of killing Matt and various people. Don't even get me started on the men you attacked." _

_Madison laughed deeply, amused by Allison's accusations. "You make me out to be Jack the Ripper. Maybe it was purely your imagination? Anyone could've killed Matt. I certainly don't remember doing so." Madison twisted her words. The night was still blurry and almost nonexistent in Madison's mind. Only Tabitha's recounting of events seemed to give some outline of the sequence of events. _

_"I remember," Allison steamed. "I remember every single gory detail." _

_"Do enlighten me with the imagery," Madison taunted. _

_"I won't feed your inner sadism," Allison objected. _

_"Me? Sadistic?" Madison mocked. _

_"Now you really are enjoying this," Allison realized sourly. _

_"I only enjoy the amusement you provide with your accusations. I never expected you to be so bold and 'brave.' I've always pictured you to be the meek little mouse who wants to be a rat. Too bad I'll always be the snake." _

_"Because you're sly and conniving," Allison imputed. _

_"I prefer clever or cunning, but either one works." _

_"That's not something to be proud of." _

_"Perhaps not but it's better than being a helpless little rodent." _

_"Are you calling me a rodent?" _

_"Your words, not mine." _

_"But you said it yourself before that! You pictured me as a little mouse. That's a rodent. Then you say you're better than being a little rodent. Did you or did you not say that?" _

_Madison grinned. "What are you going to do about it?" _

_Allison sneered but did nothing. _

_PRESENT_

The memory brought about another scenario in her head and she stared directly at Madison with harsh eyes. "'I'll always be the snake,' you said to me. Clever, cunning, sly, conniving…how do I know this isn't another one of your tricks? What if you don't actually have memory loss?"

"Another interesting theory," Madison mused, "But," she pondered, wagging her finger again, "what would I have to gain from pretending to be an Amnesic?

"Luring the person who pushed you into a trap," Allison replied decidedly. Madison raised a brow. "You want them to think you're vulnerable and won't remember who they are, therefore they can walk right past you and you wouldn't notice anything until it's too late and they finish the job, but it wouldn't work out in their favor because you really do know who they are and you'll attack first!"

"That's a mouthful," Madison grumbled. "That's an interesting tactic, and it definitely sounds like something I'd do, but why would I exclude everybody from the plan? Wouldn't I want allies, back-up in case something goes awry?"

"Good point," Allison pondered, too, "but you're an independent person. You don't like a crowd or team effort. You never have, though I'm sure Tabitha has some insight on whatever you're planning. You tell her everything. Maybe she even deceived Stiles at the hospital about her not knowing what you've been up these past few weeks on the down low. She's always put you first."

"Cute," Madison mused. "So many ideas wrapped into this pretty little head," she teased, reaching over to ruffle Allison's hair. "Here's the thing, the hole in this splendid idea of yours. Tabitha has no idea of my activities in the past weeks. If she did, she would've told me, to help me fill up holes. Sorry to say but you can cross that one out. Now, as much as I am entertained by your silly little delusions and skepticisms, I actually have to get to bed soon. It's late and I'm sure your family –well, just your dad now –is worried."

Allison cringed at the verbal sting. She knew it was a hint from Madison she was getting aggravated but Allison reminded herself to unrelenting. There was another reason she came here.

"Yeah, it's just my dad now…" She murmured. "I also need to ask you a personal question," Allison began, fiddling with her fingers. She dared to step forward and lean over the counter top, while suppressing her voice to a whisper. "When you lost your parents…how did you get over it?" Allison asked wholeheartedly. "I meant to ask earlier but I never had the courage…I was afraid you'd be angry with me for intruding onto something so personal…but, I guess, with recent events, I can barely hold myself together. It's gotten so bad…I don't know what to do."

Madison took a long, thoughtful pause as the tension of her face physically melted into a solemn expression. "The sad truth is, it doesn't get better, it won't for a long time," she admitted, dropping her fork onto the plate as she stared up at Allison's face with sincere blue eyes. "It's going to get worse before it can get better. You have to hit rock bottom before you can achieving any type of healing, to fully understand and appreciate or acknowledge your circumstances. If you're looking for a quick fix, it doesn't work like that. That's the sad reality, like it or not. Life isn't quick and it sure as hell isn't easy."

"I know that," Allison objected.

"I don't think you do," Madison called her out, narrowing her eyes, "or else you wouldn't be asking me of all people for help. First of all, if you really want help, go ask your father, he needs the comfort as much as you do, especially since he has to keep the strength of the family to put on a façade for you. You came to me though because you believe my 'experience' in loss makes me more qualified to give advice than others. Here's the truth, nothing I say will ease the hurt. I can describe the emotions but that's as much as I'm limited to. Is that what you want, a narration of my pain so you can foreshadow yours? Because I can do that but it's futile. You'll still crumble and break and there is nothing to break your fall. All I would be doing is predicting your upcoming destruction," she hissed, "but, from the ashes of devastation, I suppose a stronger person can arise. I did, so I suppose so can you…" She sighed and stood up, leaving behind the unfinished desert as she guided Allison towards the hallway.

"I need to show you something," she explained, opening a door. Allison peered down the descending stairs, surprised at the carpeting and oak railings of the furnished basement.

"So it's finished," Allison thought out loud as she followed Madison's figure down the narrow staircase.

"Yes," Madison replied, "Trevor transformed it into the theater room. We rarely use it though because the surround sound system is shocked. From what, we don't know, but we've procrastinated on replacing it. It's stupid to think about the amount of money we spent on something like this," she introduced as they entered the open area. Allison stared in awe, amazed by the bright, warm feel of the large room. The walls were a warm tan and brown, as was the large leather couch, matching ottoman chairs, and overwhelming white screen descending from the ceiling to the floor.

"Is that the kind that comes down or is that like an actual screen, like a big screen TV?" Allison had to ask.

"There's no projector," Madison explained dully, "so yes, it's a big screen," she said in a condescending tone. She passed the larger entertainment area towards the blackened backroom out of the reach of the light above Allison's head. Madison took a deep breath and proceeded opening it, unveiling one of the few unfinished rooms, covered in dust and cob webs. Madison used her superior, inhuman sights to search for a box, locating it towards the back of the dark room and pulled it out of the top shelf with a loud heave. She dragged it back out towards the brightly lit center of the room, pulling open the top flaps violently, unveiling the surprise in.

_Next Town Over_

Harrison was anxious as he paced outside, shivering in the cold with his thin jacket and worn Red Sox baseball cap. The cold was bitter and nipped at his reddening cheeks while he awaited a guest. Suddenly, out of the blackness emerged low crouched form, with piercing red eyes glaring out like fire, disturbing the neutrality of the night.

"Sloane," Harrison greeted in a rush, eager to meet his long distant companion as he toppled down the three-step stairs of his porch to the dirt-lined walkway. The large wolf raised its head and nodded out of courtesy as its eyes dimmed from red to a light grey that almost blended in with the night like a ghost if it wasn't for the reflecting pupils. "I've been thinking about what you've said since you told me. I still firmly believe that it'd be too risky for you and her to attempt. You know how delicate she is. She's finally getting back on her feet…." He paused as another image was sent from Sloane telepathically. "I'm aware she needs protection but Derek and the others are quite capable of doing that. So far they've been proving it with their constant watch…" he paused again as Sloane interrupted, passionately enough that a loud growl vibrated in his throat. "I understand that but you need a lot of time to recover."

Harrison sighed. "Even if you are one of the strongest Alphas, even you have to admit you aren't invincible. They killed you before, they can kill you again."

The large wolf snarled.

"I know you aren't the revengeful type but I can see it happening. This is out of your control. Once you make that move, the actions are irreversible. Are you prepared for the consequences? You do realize Madison can get hurt all over again? She's just getting accustomed to your absence. Why would you disturb that?"

The wolf stared at Harrison with cold eyes before they blazed into a blood red. Harrison sighed once more.

"I should've known better. You've always had a set mind…" he complied, shoving his hands into his pockets. "What do you need me to do?"

_Madison's Basement_

"Your mom was really beautiful," Allison complimented as she stared at the framed photo of the real Aubrey in her Tropicana dress. Allison instantly knew that's whom Madison inherited her physique from. "Was it true...what you told me in the woods…about her being the kindest woman you know?"

"Every word," Madison replied.

"Did you ever have doubts about her? Did you ever recall any moments that countered her kind image?"

"If you're asking if I had any moments where my 'illusion' of a devoted mother was tainted, by any chance at all, the answer is no. My mother was a saint and I'm not holding onto that because I want to but because it's true. She was. If she was stricter, I was remember her being strict, but every single moment I have in my mind of her has always been consistent, warm and welcoming with a perpetual smile. Even when she died, I still had that image in my mind, because my mother was kind enough to spare me that image…unfortunately, the picture of her gouged head did leave one hell of a scar."

"I try to think of my mom in some good light," Allison confided, "but all I can think about are the times she's limited me. We've never had an open, sharing relationship…not what you and your mom had…"

"Don't start to envy me," Madison warned harshly, causing Allison to cringe under her forceful tone. "Continue," she ordered.

"I feel guilty about all the times we've missed. I should've put an effort… I should've put my mother first instead of Lydia that day…"

"Don't start victimizing yourself," Madison demanded as she picked up another silver frame. The metal was cold against her flesh as she stared intensely at her father's solemn portrait. "That's the first thing people do after tragedy. Somehow, in human nature, I suppose, they turn the situation around to focus on themselves on what _they _could've done, on what this or that had done _to them, _and how much _their _hurting. It's typical behavior but if you want to move on quicker, you better drop that habit now. Here's the reality. Your mother is dead. She killed herself. Yes, she gave you some hints but you didn't pick up on those because you were too dense or too preoccupied. That's okay. That's life. It's hectic and often too demanding, always demanding your attention on too many things at the same time. Allison, you are _perfectly human. _You're excused from any guilt. You couldn't have seen it coming and even if you did, there would be nothing you could've done. Stop whining about the past and get back to the present. Life is moving ahead of you."

Allison should've expected the tough love, the again, just cross out the love, and just have 'tough' and that would be Madison. There was nothing even remotely affectionate about the now-new-brunette. Allison was secretly wishing she was still blond because of her plentiful array of insults blond related she secretly ranted about in her head. Now, those jokes were ruined….she still should've expected the treatment though, she reminded herself. Madison didn't like her in the least and she sure as hell wasn't going to console her. Allison betted Madison was secretly getting a kick out of this but she couldn't be any more wrong.

"Although I understand on some level," Madison mumbled. Allison turned her head in shock. She was taken aback that Madison was willing to even empathize with the likes of her, understanding and acknowledging Madison's critical stance of her. "I completely understand."

"Of course you do," Allison complied, nodding her head. "Seeing as you lost your parents…" Inside though, Allison felt bitterness on the tip of her tongue and a strange, unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach as she remembered the night Madison tormented her in the woods about their deceased parents, audacious enough to compare them. Madison didn't seem to notice –and if she did, she hid it well –and averted her eyes to the photo in her hand.

"I understand the feeling of the burden," she began, fingering her mother's face, smiling slightly but her bottom lip quivered as her eyes began to fill. "The heavy feeling on your chest and the excruciating ache…" Madison's sight blurred as she stared at the photo while she captured the tender moment in her head. "The anger that swells in you," she seethed lowly, "feeling like the most important thing from you have been _stolen, _but all that anger and rage is stuck there," she felt her chest, clutching the material of her shirt over her breast, "because you don't have anyone to blame or take it out on. When my mom was murdered," she confided, surprising Allison, "I was too young to understand the circumstance but even then, as a child, I felt the full brunt of it all, the burdening sadness and loss I felt…" she took in a shaky breath. "I don't know how to completely and thoroughly explain all of the emotions I felt, because they were all very intricate and intense and happening at once, it kind of just knocks the wind out of you and makes you lose all sanity and focus…I couldn't understand it but I felt so much emotional and pain, I could barely stand on my own feet…It was draining, and the depression didn't help. I was a ragdoll for a short while, losing all will to go on. I couldn't see the future. I couldn't continue. It was as if, mind the corniness, as if a large part of me withered and died along with my parents, like a huge part of my heart had been scooped out. I was weak and tired and exhausted. The confusion didn't help. I couldn't make sense of anything, not at that age yet. I felt incomplete, inadequate, and utterly helpless."

All Allison could do was nod in a stunned silence, somehow understanding every bit Madison had put out there. Madison didn't seem to mind the stillness and continued on.

"There was a lot of anger, at who, I don't know, and that was the problem, because I couldn't unleash that rage and frustration on the person who deserved it, so it stayed locked up and along with the depression, it creates a weight, a heaviness within you, not draining all of your energy but your will, too. Sometimes I just…couldn't get up…I stayed limp all day in my bed, crying myself to sleep, only to be awakened by nightmares, God awful nightmares, reliving it all over again, and feeling absolutely terrified and helpless. I tried to cover my ears but I couldn't move and I had to hear my dad crying my mom's name over, and over, and over again, until they put him out of his misery, and then I see those images of his corpse and my mom's…" she broke down. She dropped the photo back into the box and leaned back against the wall, clutching her throat as if she was choking on her own sob. She heaved as her heart painfully beat against her rib cage.

"That's why I could never inflict those kinds of injuries on anybody, because every time I saw blood, I'm reminded of their carnage smeared across the kitchen floor," she trembled out. Allison crawled over, compelled to help, and boldly embraced the pitiful girl, holding her tightly as her own tears shed, feeling every ounce of empathy she could produce in her being. Madison didn't reject her hold but did not accept it either, keeping still.

"Although your mom perished by suicide I bet your sentiments share similarities to mine," Madison accused, escaping Allison's grip. She distanced herself and regained some composure, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve, gathering slight pink blush and bronze residue on the delicate white fabric. "I'm not sure if I can provide much help, seeing as I barely passed the first few stages of grief, but I can definitely explain them to you if you are still confused."

Allison immediately bit at the opportunity. "How did you get over it? What I mean," she corrected herself when she realized Madison wasn't truly over it and barely surpassed the first stage of anger. "You concealed it so well. How did you burry it?"

"I didn't," Madison answered. "I just didn't talk about it much. I could talk about it and some cases, I did, like with Scott and Stiles and my parents –Trevor and Frank I mean. It took a lot of effort not to burst out in tears though. I was so close to breaking each time the topic was brought up, I'd shoot it down in an instant. As long as I didn't have to talk about it, I seemed fine. You'll see that with Tabitha, too, and how she glares as anyone who mentions Todd –her brother. It's not something we want to dwell on but the secret to truly moving on is to accept the circumstances, as painful as they may be, to get it out in the open so it's not as much as an awkward or taboo subject. The first thing you want to do when you get home if go talk to your dad…God forbid you might lose him one day…and you won't get to say I love for that last time…the moment, it seems like you have forever, like it doesn't matter when he leaves the doorway but you never know outside that door could be a killer, and within that second, a gunshot, a scream perhaps, if he had time, but when you investigate, he's…not there anymore, he there but the life in his eyes are dead, just like him," she croaked.

Allison trembled, visibly upset at Madison's advice. Without a word, she received Madison's emotional hint and stood up, shaking. She grabbed the railing as soon as she stumbled towards the stairs, glancing at Madison's yellow clad back and dark brown curls, with peaks of soft, delicate flesh between some stray strands.

Madison glanced at Allison's retreating figure from over her shoulder, hearing the door clicked behind Allison's soft steps. Madison returned her gaze from the stairs back to the photos in her hand.

During her prolonged phases of grief, Frank had to hide many of these to avoid another "scene" from Madison who'd scream violently at just the reminder of her parents. It hurt him to pack them away but he was willing sacrifice his own emotional needs to satisfy hers. Now, she realized with a new almost healing sense of relief, it was time for Mom and Dad to make their debut again in the Lundgren-Dubolazov household. She unpacked the box, laying out the framed memories, preparing to wipe off the thick layer of dust on the glass. Underneath, she found some more memorabilia, including some hand paintings –not the best, she may add. She choked on a hoarse laugh as she tried to think of the victorious face she might've had as a two or three year old, splattered with all assortments of colors. Her mother must've been chastising her constantly. _"Madison, look at you, baby. You're a mess! I bet you get this from your father. First you ruin your room and now you got your brand new clothes all dirty!" _She would tenderly wipe a wet towel over her rosy cheeks to scrub off the bright yellows and greens she must've been using for the picture.

"I can't believe I hid you guys for so long," she murmured, caressing the poorly drawn triangle dress most likely depicting her mother. "I'm really sorry. I promise it will get better now."


	8. Family Affairs

Bright golden rays slipped passed her curtains, seeping into Madison's room, almost touching the edge of her feet as the sun slowly rose over the orange hued horizon. She felt the warmth of the magnified rays on her face, prompting her to lift her eye lids, momentarily blinded by the sun's glare until her dark blue eyes could adjust to the new setting. Slowly she rose, throwing off the heavy covers off her scarcely covered body, unveiling bare legs and stretched tank top.

After a quick brush through of her hair with her fingers, she pulled her banes out of her face and behind her ear, avoiding the mirror across from her bed, eyes set upon her closet, but halfway across the room though her eyes caught a shift, a sliver of reflecting light that snagged her attention. She snapped towards the mirror where her reflection glared back at her with a haunting gaze. She swore she saw a piece of her mother almost covering her own glassy image, sharing the same waving, blackened hair and smooth, round face void of any gentleness Madison had recalled.

This isn't your mother, Madison reminded herself, steering her gaze away. That's you. That's _all _you.

Something compelled her to break out of the safe confinement of her room early that morning. Despite the strict orders from her (rather young and 'inexperienced,' but that was purely her speculation and _personal _not professional opinion) doctor, she made an effort to escape the safety of her warm room. Madison dressed warmly but modestly in jeans and a light grey cotton zip-up. Her disheveled hair was tied back into a large, airy bun and hidden by her large hood as she crept out into the doorway, passing by Tabitha's room quickly and hurried down the stairs like a ghost.

After a quick note claiming she was going to a _walk, _as the risk of running concerned her parents, she slipped through the back door rather than front door, passing through the fence gate almost immediately and into the side yard, treading over the neighbor's yard as she routed over to the sidewalk.

Lonesome and tired, Madison's pace was slow and casual as she passed the many grand houses of her block. Eventually the houses got smaller, as did the yards, and she found herself on a similar road from her childhood.

She peered down the street, faintly seeing the outline of the plot of land her old house rested upon. All she could see now was the small but steep incline of the hill the cut-out steps used to be on. The air was chilly and cool and she felt her own breath materialize in front of her before disappearing into the low but sturdy current. With a reassuring sigh, she stepped forward bravely, allowing her shoes to tap faintly on the concrete without being noticed by the sleeping occupants of Dartford Street.

She approached the property cautiously, ascending up the small grassy slope firmly, aware of the slippery morning dew lacing the grass –despite its dead appearance. She swallowed a sour mouthful of saliva nervously as she looked down upon the charred remains of wood that used to be the walls of her home. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't connect the thin, brittle stick under her foot used to be the bright blue black of wood that used to shape her house. It was a harsh reminder and bitter tears began to swell in her eyes as the picture in her mind was shattered by the crunch of smoldered wood under her foot. She walked forward into what she had thought had been the kitchen, at the very front of the house.

It was nothing but dirt and sot now, but she found little things scattered among the debris. Most of it had be either confiscated by police, water down by the occasional rain storm, or stolen by vandals. She could shards of glass from her mother's antique glass jars scattered around, somewhat melted, faded and dirtied. She reached down and scrubbed at the fragile material with a tender thumb, noticing the intricate blue spiral pattern running through the top. It reminded her of her mom's jam collection, compacted into so many glass china jars with so many colors and prints. Her kitchen was almost like a kaleidoscope with all the different glass wear Aubrey had collected over the years.

She turned her head to the right where she imagined the narrow entry way into the dimly lit hallway. It was a small house with little room but to a younger Madison, it was a maze of mystery. She imagined the basement door at the end of the hall, vaguely recalling its contents but distinctively remembering her father's booming voice commanding her to keep away from the basement. Suddenly curiosity bit at her and she stood up, feeling the ground for any hallow spaces with her foot over the assumed area of the old nonexistent basement door.

She felt a hollow thump vibrate much thinner than the other stomps Madison had inflicted on the charred ground. Her eyes narrowed accusingly on spot and lifted her foot, raising a brow as she stomped again to assure her previous speculations.

She kneeled down after and scraped off the thick layer of dirt on the spot with her hands, and then continuously wiping them off on her jeans. She clawed at the rocks buried into the ground and then felt a flat surface of some sort and she stared hard at the ground, using her enhanced sight to capture the faded but still present lines of grain on the wood plank. She began to scrape more around the area, eager to uncover more.

Across town, the sheriff rolled up to the old cemetery, followed by two other deputy cars, parking carelessly in the middle of the street while two other present cops unrolled a crime scene tape around the large perimeter. Sheriff Stilinski stepped out, immediately greeted by a young deputy.

"Grave keeper called in to report a missing body," he began, flipping through his small notebook. "Grave was dug up and coffin pried open. Bones were stolen, as was the jewelry. Another low-life crime," he grumbled as they approached the desecrated grave. The sheriff's breath stopped as he read the engraved letters on the stone overlooking the massive hole.

"You got to be kidding me…" he mumbled with wide eyes. _This can't be a coincidence, _he thought to himself. He looked down at the blackened hole with remorseful eyes. "It was just him…?"

"Huh?" The mindless deputy replied.

The Sheriff shook his head. "The grave, it was the only one hit." He clarified.

He nodded. "Yes Sir."

The Sheriff sighed and took off his hat in respect. "Alright, finish the photographs, I'll go notify family."

"What family?" The officer questioned. "We looked him up on records for relatives and nothing popped up."

Sheriff Stilinski looked over his shoulder with intense eyes. He steered around to face the young officer. The fresh cadet shook in his shoes and diverted his eyes to his mud-scuffed shoe.

"Check his in-laws," the Sheriff demanded, pointing to the neighboring grave. The deputy looked at the name of grave.

"His wife," the cadet inquired. He was weary and unsure in the presence of irritated authority. It had seemed nothing he had done had impressed the older, veteran officer. It unnerved him greatly.

"I know she has 2 brothers, one in Nevada and another here in Beacon Hills," the Sheriff explained, sighing. "I'll pay the brother a visit."

"What about the other?" The young cadet asked again.

"I've tried to reach him before…apparently they are distant relatives and lost touch a long time ago. I don't think he ever met Mr. Dubolazov. I'll still reach him anyways."

Mentally, the cadet tried to piece together why his superior would need to contact the relative beforehand. "How come, sir," he impulsively asked. He was returned with a strict, orderly glare. The Cadet easily receded back sheepishly.

"Let's wrap it up here boys," Sheriff Stilinski bellowed. He readjusted his hat and walked back to his patrol car briskly, slamming the door behind him before revving out of the poor parking spot.

_In the Hospital_

"Here you go, Dr. Klein," an attractive Latina nurse bid, handing the young twenty-something doctor a chart over the counter. He thanked her with a gracious, white smile, and left without so much than two quiet words. He reviewed the test results under the first two pages, knitted his eyebrows in confusion for a second, before closing his mental investigation and stuffing the chart in between his arms. He slyly escaped through a fire escape stairway, cell phone in hand and eager to call as he dialed rapidly onto the touch pad of the Apple product.

"Hello," a voice answered from the other end after four long rings. "What can I do for you, Anders?"

"You know what you can do," he demanded harshly. "What do you have so far on the samples?"

"Jeez, looks like someone forgot to teach you the virtue of patience as a kid …Okay, I'm not completely done, seeing I have actually _work _I need to be doing but after hours last night I got some analyzing done. With these two samples, I was able to compare some common similarities…"

"And, did they match? Are they the same person?"

"Well, perhaps yes, and perhaps no," the replier ambiguously said. Dr. Klein seethed in the concrete corner he was leaned up against. "Now both share common letters with identical forms, 'D,' 'O,' 'B,' 'U,' and 'N,' while the 'L,' 'Z,' and 'Y' have common but mirroring attributes. B, D, and L, share a similar loop, same width and height, on both samples, but here's what I find difficult. With the first sample, the script is rather small and slanted, squeezed in together. The M is bold and wide, as is the D of her surname, but the rest of the letters such as the A and I are almost microscopic without the aid of a magnifier or keen eye. In contrast, all the letters in Aubrey are big and spacious, clear and obvious. They are also meticulously straight and proportioned."

"What are you trying to say Ben?" Dr. Klein interrupted. "Is she not the same person?"

"Settle down, I'm getting there," the other person hissed. "From a general perspective, these two samples seem to come from two different people, _but… _I caught a slip up. Because she wrote her signature in cursive, there is a distinct rule about how the D and L are supposed to loop, and in those loops, I can see the form is almost identical. Also, while the Y in Aubrey is large, spacious, and round, the G in Lundgren is sharp and narrow, just like the Z in Dubolazov."

"So she is the right person?"

"I suppose so, it is very likely, but there are some concerns I have," Ben remarked. "While I compared these two signature samples, I also analyzed the personalities in which this person projected within her signature. With 'Madison's' signature, the narrowed, sharp letters resemble compacted anger and frustrations –and a lot of it. She's shy and meek, probably trying to avoid people. Her surname is more legible than her first name, implying a reserved nature around people. She's formal, quiet, and does not socialize _–genuinely –_very much due to most likely low-self-esteem or disconnect and isolation, from other instances or reasons. Also, she slants to the left, which I've seen among many criminals in my lifetime. Usually, left-slanting implies withdrawal or hesitance, scared to proceed forward. Something is holding her back, a trauma or low-self-esteem."

"I'm assuming the other one isn't the same way," Dr. Klein grumbled.

"Quite the opposite," Ben replied. "'Aubrey's' signature is slightly larger than 'Madison's,' but not too big enough to be egotistical. It's a perfect balance, the perfect proportion, insinuating a sense of modestly and control –and by the way her letters are straight, she's almost OCD with her control, like it is necessary. Perhaps, this is a show for others, to put on a perception or image of perfection for others to witness, as if she needs a likable, admirable persona. My first impression, after comparing the first sample, in mind these two might be the same person, is that she has acquired some sense of stability and power and refuses to return to her previous condition. Because there is no slant, this person is at a standstill, like a stalemate. There is no progress with this individual, no optimism towards the future but disregard or no acknowledgement of the past."

"So, are you saying that she's simply made progress? How is that concerning? It's been years, of course she's going to make some kind of mature progress."

"With further analysis," Ben continued as if Dr. Klein hadn't spoken, "I focused on certain letters to give me details on her personality. The wide spacing of the Y insists on emptiness, an emotional vulnerability, and a lack of personal connections. This is further imposed by the extensions if the N's, how they linger in a slide like line even after the name has been completed. She might have not grown much from her earlier years. But, in contradiction, the Z of her signature –the sharpness insists on left over anger as well as disconnect and extremely private nature. Usually this kind of exhibition of conflicting personas is found throughout bipolar patients."

"Wait, she could be bipolar?" Dr. Klein shied back, astounded by the possibility.

"No, the control she expresses voids that possibility. I believe personally it's the conflict between external persona and her true feelings, as if she is still deciding which one is more important."

"Which personality is more dominant?" Dr. Klein inquired.

"It's hard to tell, you have two different personas to appease. There is her reserved demeanor, the private, vulnerable, and greatly overlooked girl within her harder shell. _Madison _is desperate for some kind of emotional connection but does not extend opening any opportunities to external presences because she believes to be misunderstood or rejected. Her situation will probably be more unlikely than others, thus the reason for her isolation. To contrast, _Aubrey _is bold and overwhelming, almost oppressive in nature, because of her need for control and attention. She's likely manipulative and endearing. She can and probably _will_ outwit you. Please don't forget that."

"Thank you Ben," Dr. Klein replied.

"One more thing," Ben interrupted.

"Both Madison and Aubrey are very strict, passionate personas, if you wound either of them, the backlash will be great –perhaps even harmful, depending on the emotional stability of Madison –whom, I can assume, is very little. They both will act rashly and extreme, in any scenario."

"Will note, Ben," he bid solemnly before hanging up. He thought hard about the situation before rubbing a hand through his dark hair. He returned the iPhone into his back pocket and briskly pushed past the door into the brightly lit hallway, unbeknownst to him, a figure lurked under the flight of stair, peering over the railing towards the corner Dr. Klein had reserved in only moments before.

A low rumbling growl vibrated throughout the concrete encasement.

Sheriff Stilinski approached the Lundgren 'residence,' unnerved by the gate he had to pass to enter the neighborhood. Everything seemed so private and lucrative. There was a reason he didn't like the upper class. They would be able to hide things from him and he couldn't do much about it without retaliation. At least this was a house call and not an interrogation.

Opening the door, he was greeted by a friendly-looking man. He was slender and dressed modestly in a black V-neck and tan dress pants, with blond back-slicked hair and radiant white smile. _Must be a business man _the Sheriff thought as he noticed the meticulous personal appearance of the man.

"Frank Lundgren?" Sheriff Stilinski inquired.

He shook his head. "I'm Trevor, Trevor Lundgren, his husband –or legally, according to the Californian law system," he snidely commented, rolling his light green eyes." I'm his domestic partner. What can I do for you, sheriff?"

"I have some news, would you and _your husband _mind if I come in? It's a private matter that should be discussed with both of you?_" _the sheriff said, trying to appease the younger man. Trevor smiled. The sheriff's attempt was successful.

"Of course, come on in," he insisted, stepping aside and allowing the man inside. "Have a seat on the couch. I'll fetch Frank."

Sheriff Stilinski procured a seat on the luxurious couch, reclining back patiently as he took in the designer decorum and refined taste of the pair of men.

Behind him, a brunette figure loomed, staring at the back of his head with intense blue eyes. She silently descended down the short two-step stairs and behind him, raising her chin as she tried to catch the side of his face. He felt her penetrating glare and jolted in shock when he turned around only to be caught in her spear-like eyes. He jumped back to distance himself from the stranger –until he recognized her face as 'Aubrey's.'

"You're Stiles' friend, and Tabitha's," he assumed, placing a hand over his chest as if to calm his beating heart.

"And you're his father," she retorted back, cool and collected. "What are you doing here?" She accused. He could tell her welcome was far different, opposing the nature of her father's. Then, he realized, they couldn't possibly have a daughter…due to biological obstructions. He recalled looking up different documents under Frank's name, then Trevor's, and coming across an adoption document.

"You're their daughter," he though out loud. She nodded. He thought back on the details about the adoption, recognizing Trevor's signature on the paper, with Frank's as a second party. He also remembered Aubrey was acquired before the adoption process was even enacted, and was already in the custody of her maternal uncle. He wanted to ask about her biological parents –as those documents had been legally sealed via Frank's request, but instead of asking her directly, he decided to wait for Frank's explanation. "How are you feeling?" he asked, recalling her accident and recovery from his son.

"I'm good," she curtly said, turning her head and preparing to leave when she heard the steps of her adoptive father's descend down the stairs. She shot him one last look. "What happened? Why are you here?"

"Maybe you should join your dads," the sheriff insisted, motioning to the couch, specifically the seat next to him. She declined silently by moving across the room to the reclining chair, opposite of the guest. Trevor and Frank –dressed in similar fashions despite Frank adorned a blazer to complete his professional look –approached the Sheriff openly and graciously, replicating the same exact veneer smile.

"Sheriff Stilinski, how are you?" Frank greeted, shaking the man's hand. Trevor watched from a distance, locating next to Madison's stiff form and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She place her own hand over his, appreciating his gesture, but it did not ease the tension on her shoulders. "Your son came by a couple days ago to check on our girl. He's a real friend."

Madison glanced towards the hallway where Tabitha tiptoed towards them, peering past the pillar to peak at the situation conjuring in the large space. Madison narrowed her eyes and harshly nodded her head, motioning her to return behind the wall. Tabitha cringed but caught it quickly and receded back behind the walls. Stilinski was too busy with Frank to notice.

"With everyone hear, I'd like to inform you about some news about your brother-in-law," Stilinski began. Frank's smile dropped and Trevor's grip on Madison tightened.

"Uh, Aubrey," Frank directed gently. Madison's ears perked, "could you leave us alone quickly? How about you and a friend go out to eat? I'll give you money for food," he insisted, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his pocket to pluck twenty dollars. "There's a nice coffee shop by the car wash. Go get a muffin and an iced coffee, okay?"

Madison nodded obediently. Trevor let her go and patted her back as she left. Madison passed Frank and swiped the bill from his hand and left quickly out of sight.

"What's happening?" Tabitha whispered, intercepting her at the stairs.

"I don't know," Madison hissed quietly, frustrated. She grabbed Tabitha by the arm, directly away from the stairs and towards the kitchen, propping up against the wall near the living but hidden by the solid structure from the human eyes.

"I don't want our daughter to hear this," Frank explained, though his voice wasn't as solid as it was before, strained by distance and muffled by the thick wood between them. Madison and Tabitha stared intently at each other. "What happened? My sister and her husband have been dead a long time ago," he asked, confused.

"I know," the sheriff replied. "I'm sorry to say this but his remains were dug up. We found his grave dug up, remains stolen, and casket contents empty."

Frank's head shot up. "When did this happen? What about my sister? Is she okay?"

Madison had to be detained by Tabitha's iron grip as she fought the urge to burst in and ask questions herself. She struggled in her grip but Tabitha's military background secured her Alpha in steel flesh bond, almost bruising Madison's wrists.

"Settle down," she whispered in her ear, having to hold her close to keep a firm grip. Madison stopped resisting and stood still, glancing over to Tabitha's cool expression. Her hair was slightly undone but smooth and straight, limp over her shoulder. Madison had no clue why she had focused in on it. Perhaps it was because she just now realized it seemed reddish in the early sunlight streaming past the glass paneled doors perpendicular to them.

"Your sister's grave seems intact and undisturbed, but we came across another odd instance," Sheriff Stilinski began, knitting his eyebrows. He forced himself to look at Frank with solid, neutral eyes. "The third gave, of their daughter –your niece –her grave was undisturbed but we couldn't find anything within the casket when we scanned the ground with an x-ray. Did you know anything about that?"

Frank sighed deeply. Trevor came to his side by the chair he sat in and extended a loving arm to rub his defeated shoulders. "That grave was donated by a kind soul –we don't know who –but we appreciate the sentiment, especially since her body was never found." Frank played with his words a little but like every other time he lied, he receded back to his nervous habit of gnawing on his bottom lip.

"He better not gnaw," Madison whispered, "it's too obvious. He can't lie to save his ass." Tabitha rolled her eyes and held her grip on Madison.

"Well, he hasn't been living a lie, he's not a professional liar like you," Tabitha retorted.

Madison turned to her Beta with a harsh look. "You're kidding, right? He _raised _a lie. What shoved up your ass this morning?"

"Nothing," Tabitha hissed, "now just shut up. Listen!"

"Bossy, bossy," Madison sneered.

Sheriff Stilinski let Frank's habit unnoticed. He clasped his hands nervously. "Do you have any information on her disappearance?" Frank's eyes tightened and Sheriff patiently waited.

Madison's breath caught up in her throat as she anticipated scrambled for a diversion. "Okay, I suppose that's not related…do you have any idea why would anyone do this?"

Frank shook his head. "I didn't know much about Sloane. I did know he treated my sister with the upmost respect and loved both her and Madison dearly." He clapped his hands, a sign of finalization Madison caught, a detail she could decipher as Frank's way of wanting to conclude the conversation.

"He's not happy," Madison deciphered.

"I've been looking into the Dubolazov family fire recently and I think these two are connection. I have a suspicion it wasn't a gas leak but a murder covered up by arson, with the assistance of corruption within the office. I have tried to piece together as much as I can but much of the evidence was destroyed…as you can assume," Sheriff Stilinski admitted.

"Why were you looking into anyways?" Frank acquired, perking. His posture stiffened and his eyes darkened. Trevor's did the same as he took in Frank's grave expression.

Madison had an identical expression, with jar ajar. She narrowed her eyes while Tabitha widened hers.

"A classmate of my son brought up the suicide of our old sheriff and how there was a possible link between that and a cover-up over an arson, which happened to be a house nearby on my street. I have a personal obligation to reopen the case. The first thing I'm not quite sure on is the whereabouts of Madison. There is barely any documentation on her post fire. Would you have any clue where she could be? She wasn't in the morgue with her parents, so there is a high possibility she is alive."

Frank's shoulders sank again as he struggled to come up with an answer.

"Yes," Trevor immediately answered on his behalf, stunning both and Frank and Madison. Madison was once again held back by Tabitha.

"Don't do this," Tabitha advised gravely through clench teeth, struggling to keep Madison close. Madison on the other hand was seething, shaking her head in denial.

"No, no," she whispered, "no, this can't happen!"

"Trevor," Frank hissed.

"_No_," Trevor objected. "We've been hiding this. What's going to happen if we tell the truth? I guarantee you there will fewer consequences than lying all over again," Trevor advised before returning his attention back to Sheriff Stilinski. "What I'm about to tell you will remain between us, understand? We've did all we've done to make sure no one knows for her safety."

"Yes," The sheriff replied.

Madison continued to struggle in Tabitha's grip.

"Frank, you know the beginning of story, you should tell it," Trevor insisted. Frank shook his head in his hands before lifting it up to face Sheriff Stilinski.

"No," Madison objected loudly, pulling away from Tabitha's grasp. The Beta winced as she was flung forward onto the floor, scraping her elbow. Madison stormed forward. Frank, Trevor, and Stilinski all gazed up in fright, bewildered by her animosity at the situation. "Stop it, don't say anything."

"It's too late," Trevor decided.

"I thought I said go out," Frank seethed, glaring at Madison who was undeterred.

"I am just as involved in this as you are, I'm not letting anything happen to you," she started, tilting her head towards the sheriff with burning eyes. "Perhaps you should leave, this is a family matter we need to discuss," she fiercely demanded. The Sheriff was taken aback by her animosity but stood his ground.

"_You're Madison," _he realized, widening his eyes in astonishment. He looked to Frank and Trevor who bowed their head. Madison tightened her face into a fierce, almost predatory glare, baring her teeth in an intimidating sneer. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," Trevor croaked.

"Trevor!" Both Frank and Madison shrieked simultaneously. Trevor shook his head apologetically.

"Madison," Trevor tried to reason, "_your father's grave _was just vandalized, _his body stolen _and God knows where, and you are worried about what? What, we're hiding the fact you survive and have been in our custody since? Don't both of you realize people have been searching for you?"

"Yeah," yelled Madison, clutching her hands into blood-drawing fists. The Sheriff noticed the red substance drip from her fingers onto the carpet but she was too angry at Trevor to notice. "I know people are searching for me, some of whom aren't the best, the very people who…" she stopped herself short. "It doesn't matter." She sighed and fell back onto the chair in Frank's lap. He held her close.

"Forgive her," Trevor pleaded politely, "she's just very protective of our family…seeing as what happened to her parents."

"So you're Sloane and Aubrey's legitimate daughter," the Sheriff repeated. She nodded in agreement. Tabitha watched helplessly from a distance as Madison unraveled the very thing she protected. "Do you remember anything about that night?"

"No," Madison adamantly denied. "I was four damn it. I don't remember anything and from what you're telling me, I shouldn't want to remember anything." She exploded. She pushed herself off of Frank's lap and into the kitchen, where all of them heard the cling of keys slap against each other. "I'm going out for real. Tabitha, _come._"

Tabitha complied eagerly and trailed behind Madison's fuming figure. "I'll make sure she doesn't do anything stupid," she promised Trevor and Frank hurriedly as they passed them. "Where are we going Mads?"

Madison abruptly stopped and turned around, staring directly at the Sheriff. "To see your bastard of a boyfriend," she curtly said with a cold expression. Tabitha froze in between the tense exchange, forgetting to breathe until she heard her own gasp from her throat as it burned. The Sheriff was frozen in his seat as Madison turned around again towards the door.

"I-I-I…" Tabitha stuttered, caught in the Sheriff's intense glare. He rose and she panicked. "I swear she won't kill him. I won't let her. I'll make sure she doesn't," she cried before rushing out to catch up with Madison.

She was able to intercept her fuming figure, slightly disturbed by her reddening eyes but convinced herself to be brave.

"Mads, think about this," she tried to convince her. "This is your chance… for justice. You can go back in there and tell him everything and set the truth free."

Madison paused and glared at the naïve girl. She didn't cower under her intense gaze though. "There is no more room for justice. It's too late."

"No it's not. It's not an accident and you know that."

"It won't change anything."

"Maybe, maybe not…"

"No it won't. All it will do is make it worse. I don't want my parents' murder to be publicized. I'd rather people think they died in an accidental fire than believe the reality my father ruined my family and brought death and destruction upon all of us, that even though he loved my mom, the press won't see it that way and title him a cheating son-of-bitch when all he had was a weak moment. One thing is clear," Madison said, enticing Tabitha's attention. "Whoever dug up my father's grave is a dead man."

"Maybe that is the truth," Tabitha suggested, taking Madison off guard. "Maybe he was a cheating bastard. Sometimes we cling onto memories of the good to overlook the realities of the bad. I know I did that as a child to hide the fact my mom wanted nothing to do with us, that she blamed us for tying her down to a life of motherhood when she wasn't prepared for that commitment and only wanted to come home when _she _wanted to."

"This isn't about your uncaring, neglectful mother," Madison yelled, pushing Tabitha back. _Forgive her, this is just a moment of rage and pent up frustration, she doesn't mean it… _Tabitha tried to convince herself as Madison berated her. "This is about the fact my father is already desecrated and I don't need to press to do anymore slandering as it is. Don't talk like you know anything about my father because you don't."

"Neither do you," Tabitha dared to retort. Madison stepped back, shocked at the audacity of Tabitha's brute honesty. "You were only four when he died. You can't know him all that well. You were four, and keep in mind you are still learning new things about him every day. You can't keep glamorizing him as a flawless, loving man when he had his weak points."

They stood deathly still on the lawn, staring at each other with intense eyes, filled with doubt and confusion.

"But he was still my dad," Madison managed to whisper out, "and his grave is desecrated and I need to know who hates my family enough to keep on tormenting us. Can you at least give me that?"

"Of course," Tabitha surrendered. "Do you want to visit the crime scene?"

"No," Madison declined, "not yet. I wasn't lying when I said I was visiting Stiles. If anyone can provide answers, it's him. His curiosity ought to bring some good use and he owes me for all the trouble he's brought upon us."

"That's the card you're using?"

"Yes and if that doesn't work, I have other methods."

"I'm sure you do, but just so you know, if you lay a hand on him, I will break your wrist."

"I have no doubts about that."


	9. Series NUMERO TRES! (3)

_**This is going to be my only messy chapter as I add a quick snippet to transition into the third season -now that I have some new material to bend around and work with. ;) **_

_**Notes to keep in mind while reading this: The new plot line with be transcribed into a new separate series connected to this one, as this one was just a summer bypass to link the two together, and you will see elements of some ORIGINS references and hints that co-inside with season 3 of Teen wolf, including some person issues such as: **_

_**WHO THE HELL PUSHED MADISON? -You will figure it out soon enough, but you can take a hint. **_

_**WHERE IS DADDY DUBOLAZOV? -Why do you think she was in Russia? She's trying to find answers. Physically, Sloane Dubolazov was so burnt to a crisp there really was nothing left but that doesn't mean some of his remains hold some pretty significant history and power to those who know how to use them. The eminent threat of Sloane's heritage being used to an advantage for someone who yearns for chaos will be quite present. **_

_**WILL MADDY KICK SOME ALPHA ASS? WHY IS SHE KICKING ALPHA ASS? -Well, DUH, she will, she's Madison Dubolazov, one of the last remaining links to the original werewolf lineage (Maybe, or perhaps, just one of the strongest -Russian -lycan lineage. Perhaps she's a direct descendent from the first werewolf, perhaps not, and she's just another descendent to just a strong, feared family?) Nonetheless, She's very strong and very important to everyone involved, especially when it comes to how and why and what a werewolf can achieve. First and foremost, she's returned to Beacon Hills for the same reasons the Alphas have but with a different intent, to save Scott instead of killing him, because of course, the Alpha Pack is her natural enemy. **_

_**IS THERE ANY OTHER REASON WHY SHE WOULD BE AFTER THE ALPHA PACK? **__**-I won't reveal too much to ruin the series but Madison is a mystery in herself. You'll only discover her motives when Scott or Derek or any other character does, thus why I'm still keeping things in third person but I'm still always experimenting with styles and plots and really formulating my writing. I will say though she has many secrets and agendas under her sleeve. **_

_**-Remember little Lucille, her half-sister? I won't say much else, but I think I know how I can connect that to Allison's and her father's trip to France. **_

_**-Yes, The Volkov family will be making appearances, including Luca, "Nat," and perhaps Daddy D himself. **_

_**If you have any other questions or inquisitions feel free to message me and I can certainly feed you a spoonful of spoilers or just a lick of a hint ;) **_

_**-Much love, Cassidy. **_

It all happened so fast. Scott glared down at the Alpha's fiery red eyes as the older man snarled, tightening his grip on his throat. Scott continued to kick but his attempts were futile as the Alpha overpowered him with more strength than Scott could muster.

"Don't you realize what you're dealing with?" He snarled. He dug his claws deeper in Scott's next. "I'm an _Alpha."_

The elevator suddenly opened behind them. Scott tried to focus on the figure unveiled by the doors but the blackened shadow blurred too fast for Scott to distinguish. He could hear the shrill cry of his attacker as he plummeted onto the floor.

"Interesting," he heard a new voice announced. He tried to pinpoint where he heard it before but couldn't in his haze. "So am I," she emphasized before tossing the Alpha out effortlessly. He groaned at the impact, loud enough for Scott's ears to catch. He looked up at the figure whose back was turned to him. A cascade of blond curls welcomed him and he immediately thought of an old friend but shook the idea out of his head.

She turned her head slightly and he finally caught her sapphire eyes under dark lashes. "Long time, no see, McCall," she greeted warmly, smiling wide as the elevator door closes.

"Madison?" He had to ask. She laughed before extending a hand to help him up. "Need help?" She offered. He nodded and pulled himself up. She didn't even budge, surprising him.

"Yeah," he replied, staring at her face fiercely, catching all the small differences he could pinpoint. She looked older, with a stern expression lining her high cheek bones. Her eyes were darker…colder… no longer vivid blue but almost black. He was taken aback at first before being reminded by her bright smile she was still an acquaintance. "Where have you been?" He demanded, gripping her forearm. She removed it with ease and placed his hand in her own, holding it tightly in her grip.

"I had to attend to family business. Hurry," she said anxiously while glaring at what could possibly be lurking outside the metal doors, "we need to go. I have a lot to tell you, and I need to tell you in private, where there isn't a chance we're overheard." She rushed while grabbing Isaac's wheelchair from behind and prepared to leave as soon as the elevator reached the floor.

**Hey guys, so sorry it took so long. I would explain to you why but then it'd get sappy and I don't want to bother you with that crap...But I was inspired by the TW premiere and I wrote this ****Part 1 ****(because of time limit) in addition of the first few opening paragraphs left over from months ago when I was still struggling to figure out what direction this would go. **

**Feel free to review, input, msg, rate, really, anything except copy-paste-steal because I will ****_cut a bitch _****(lol not really...or will I? Cause I will get mad. :P) I like this new Alpha Pack and I see a lot of legit conflict between them and Madison and then having this mysterious Russian-tie to her and maybe or maybe not her family is involved. Don't worry though, Daddy will still be in the mix -that mystery will be solved soon maybe. **

**-Love, Cassidy. **


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